


A Pepper Blooms in the Valley

by fancylances



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, F/F, F/M, Suicidal Thoughts, all the Shane warnings, everyone loves the farmer, farmer pepper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-08-23 21:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 51,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8342728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancylances/pseuds/fancylances
Summary: Ex-JojaDrone, animal lover, overly friendly, and almost six-feet-tall. Pepper Rodriguez brings her pink hair and perkiness to the Valley in a story that's been told every way but this way.Rating changed for suicidal talk, language, and sexytimes.





	1. day one

**Author's Note:**

> Whether or not it ends up getting read, I felt like I needed to get Pepper's story down. Mostly for my own sake, probably. Almost everything I'll write comes directly from situations encountered in the game, from Pepper's experience. I also love her to death. Maybe someone else will. I'm also shit with titles, so there you go!

Her name was Pepper Rodriguez. 

She was just under six feet tall, and some time ago she’d cut all of her hair off and dyed it bright bubblegum pink. She had never got onto any gridball teams in high school because of some locker room malarkey, but she was built like she played every day. Broad shoulders, wide chest, arms like steel beams. Her face was broad, but it only made room for the wide, soft smile she kept there. She’d been described by friends as “obscenely chipper” but somehow still “down to earth”, and Pepper hoped that they were all compliments (she tended to take them that way).

Pepper only worked for Joja Co. a total of seven weeks before the tedium and the soul-crushing boredom got to her. Any spirit she had started to shrivel, and she knew she couldn’t let that happen. And so she opened a letter, and so she moved to Stardew Valley. 

But that’s an old story. But we all know about the magic woods of the valley and how the whispered wind changes lives for better or for worse. Pepper’s story is little different from all those who decide to come to the valley, really--and whose story is really different from the others’ in this world? 

+++

After the first cold night of spring, Pepper found herself in new surroundings. A different bed, old and smelling slightly of must; old beams over her head creaking with every breath of wind; the smell of fresh earth and trees through the open windows. She sat on the edge of her new bed for what felt like hours. Looking at the floorboards and thinking--wondering--what possibly brought her to this place. Desperation was one thing, but to act so rashly and give up everything she’d ever known for a life she had never even contemplated was another.

Pepper had planted a sprig of rosemary in her apartment in Zuzu City a year ago. It had gone brown in two days, and she’d watered it for weeks not knowing if it was dead or alive. She didn’t have any clothes she’d call slightly appropriate for farm work; she’d put on an old karate class shirt, gray with a hole at her collarbone. She felt like a pretender, like a silly little girl. How was she going to do this?

If not for the packet of seeds and encouraging letter from Mayor Lewis on her doorstep, Pepper may well have taken the bus back to the city that morning. But someone believed in her. Even if it wasn’t herself, someone thought that she had it in her, somewhere, to make it. 

So she took the tools her grandfather had left her, and she tried.

+++

She was honestly sweating. Not the sort of sweat that came from climbing up seven flights of stairs with a hot pizza in your hand for someone else to enjoy. She’d dug up a fresh plot of soil all on her own, and her seeds were growing there. It wasn’t even noon, and she was sweating. 

Past the bus stop was Pelican Town. She’d heard all of Grandpa’s stories when she was little. Stories about Willy’s catch of the day or George’s feats of strength. Pelican Town was almost something out of a myth, in that way. Something Pepper believed in, but wasn’t sure if it could live up to the expectations of a lifetime of childhood fantasies. 

It was a bit like stepping into a storybook. 

It was barely eight in the morning, though Pepper felt like she’d spent the entire day digging in the dirt. Only after she’d seen her first new face did she even consider the condition her own was in (muddied and sweaty, pink with exertion but not unpretty; square and proud, but soft).

He was a boy almost her age, maybe younger, quite a bit taller. A tall shock of blond hair, bright blue eyes, and skateboarding across the town square. He fumbled on a kickflip, slicked back his hair, and looked up to see her staring.

“Oh! Uh!” he grasped at first. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she said back, and the smile came wide and easy.

And suddenly she didn’t feel so alone. Because his face lit up like she’d just given him the world.

“I’m Sam,” he said, trying to kick his board into his hand and failing three times before he made it. He grinned at the way it made Pepper laugh.

“I’m Pepper,” she told him. “I live at the farm, now.”

“Oh, that old farm!” he exclaimed, nearly dropping the board. “Man, that’s been empty for years. Is that really all yours?”

“It is now,” she told him, shifting from one foot to the other. “I hope I don’t screw it up,” she added with a laugh.

“I’m sure you won’t,” he told her. “I mean, I don’t know you. But it’s hard to be a screw-up here.” He held out a hand, the one that wasn’t clutching a skateboard. 

They shook.

“Hey, let me show you around,” he offered, tucking the board under an arm. “I don’t start work for a couple hours.”

Sam walked her into the general store, where she briefly met Pierre and Gus, two older men who had made a few of Grandpa’s stories (mostly Gus and his spaghetti sauce of infamy). But Sam assured her it was mostly to meet Pierre’s daughter Abigail.

“I love your hair,” was the first thing Abigail said to Pepper, her pale face lighting up. “Dad would never let me cut it like that. Oh, I mean--Hi, I’m Abigail.”

They sat in the spring air together for a while, the three of them, the girls watching Sam try a handful of skateboarding tricks on the old bricks of the town square. Abigail told Pepper the names of the townsfolk as they strolled by (Harvey, the new doctor; Elliot, the man who lived by himself on the beach; Penny, the teacher with soft eyes; the children trailing behind her, Sam’s little brother Vincent and a serious-looking little girl named Jas), and Pepper hopped up off the grass to rush and introduce herself.

“What made you decide to move, anyway?” Abigail asked, looking deeply at the sky. “If it’s okay to ask.”

“I guess that...” Pepper started slowly, really thinking. It was mostly because of Grandpa. The thought that she’d let him down by living a life he might not have wanted her to, that she’d let down the memory of him by letting his farm rot away. But there were more reasons than that. “I was bored. Punching the same numbers into the same computer every day. I never got to meet any new people or do anything exciting anymore. And now I’ve got plenty of new people to talk to.”

She smiled, and she saw Sam grinning in the corner of her eye.

“It was nice meeting you,” Abigail said as they parted, heading back into the general store (something about an unbeatable level needing beaten). 

Pepper didn’t really get to meet Sebastian that day. She got to hear all about Sam’s best friend and really cool guy on the way up the path out of Pelican Town and into the cliffs and hills surrounding it. Pepper got to stand in front of a basement door while Sam knocked and called “Seb! Sebster! Sebasty! Sebs! Sebarino!” for almost a full minute. Pepper got to meet Sebastian’s eye, thin and heavy with sleep and irritation.

“Don’t you have to be at work?” a young but heavy-sounding voice came from somewhere in the vicinity of the scrutinizing eye.

“Yeah, but I wanted you to meet--”

“I’ll see you Friday, Sam,” Sebastian’s eye said, and the door closed again.

“He’s really, like, super nice,” Sam explained, face gone pink.

“It’s okay,” Pepper chuckled, waving to Robin as they left the house. “Sam, I wanted to say thanks for hanging out with me today. You’ve been really nice to someone you don’t even know.”

“Sure!” Sam replied, face split wide with a white smile. “Hey, you don’t play drums, do you?”

“No?”

“Nevermind,” he said quickly, waving it off. “I guess I’m kinda like you. I mean that there’s not a lot of new people coming through the valley, and it’s nice to get to talk to someone different sometimes. This is me,” he added, thumbing in the area of the JojaMart Pepper hadn’t even seen until he’d suddenly pointed it out.

She paled. “You work _there_?” Flashbacks of cubicles and the droning, horrible silence came at her like bats, and she shook them away. 

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug, “but it’s just part-time. Guitar strings don’t buy themselves, right?”

All said and done, Pepper thought on her way back into town, it was a good start to a new life. The people she’d met didn’t dismiss her because of her height or her hair. 

Life would be different. She’d have to work, really work, to make things happen. But she was tired of having the world turn around her while she sat and waited for it. If she could find a place in this new world, if she could make the people--and the soil--her friends, maybe she could do this.

+++

Pepper woke before dawn to the sound of rain plinking against her windows. She peered out into the storm, the gray pre-sun sky heavy with clouds. She set the watering can beside the door, sure she wouldn’t need it today, but pulled her old galoshes and raincoat from one of the several boxes she hadn’t unpacked yet. 

Mayor Lewis had told her how many people lived in and around Pelican Town, and Pepper wasn’t going to miss a day (even a rainy day) that she could spend networking. 

She scoffed, breath fogging in the cool spring rain. _Networking_. She still sounded like a JojaDrone. 

Normal people said things like making friends.

The street lamps were still on in the morning darkness, but the rain had started to let up a bit by the time Pepper made it into town. She lowered the hood of her raincoat, reading the town’s bulletin board as she waited for the general store to open. 

Footsteps broke the surface of the nearby puddles, and Pepper looked up with interest.

He was on the shorter side, stuffed into an ill-fitting sweatshirt, and his dark hair was swept mostly to one side, chopped short on the other, and plastered flat to his head in the rain. He looked up at the same time she did, and Pepper saw a tired scowl under the stubble on his round face. He looked older than her, though by how much she couldn’t be sure (whether it was the bags under his eyes or the frown aging him, or whether he really was somewhere close to ten years her senior).

“Hi,” she started, already preparing a smile. But she hadn’t raised her hand halfway from her side or finished her one syllable completely before the man rolled his eyes to look away and mutter under his breath:

“Why are you talking to me? I don’t know you.”

This was a very different morning than yesterday.

Pepper wanted to point out that not knowing who she is was, in fact, the point of introducing herself. But she didn’t.

“I’m Pepper,” she said with re-mustered enthusiasm, contributing the rudeness to not everyone being a morning person.

“No, you’re annoying.” He continued plodding past her, hands deep in his pockets and hunched away from human contact.

She was so thrown that she didn’t have time to think up a snappy comeback before he’d turned a corner and disappeared.

Okay, she decided. Everyone had their own prerogative, no one was forced to be her friend. Different tastes, different folks, but… But he hadn’t even given her a chance. She’d barely got to spit out her name (and, she realized, she hadn’t wrangled his out of him during their scintillating conversation) before he stepped all over her well-prepared peppiness.

He was not going to get out of meeting her properly. Then he could decide if she could take a hike. Metaphorically.

So, naturally, she followed him.

He’d taken the path over the north bridge, and when she’d traced his steps there, there really was no doubt as to where he’d gone. Joja. But it wasn’t open this early, she was sure. Did he work there?

Honestly, if that were true, Pepper immediately understood the prickly attitude. By the time her final two weeks were up at Joja, she’d been ready to bite heads off, too. Maybe the second time she saw him--whoever he was--they’d be able to hash it out. If he hated her after talking to her for five minutes…

Well, she wouldn’t like it, but it’d at least be an informed choice.


	2. friday night

“Peps!” Sam called from the sidewalk, almost losing it on his skateboard but recovering with little face lost. 

“Hey Sam,” she answered, smiling. 

“Peps, hey, hey,” he continued, catching his footing before he finally made it to her side. “I’m officially inviting you to the saloon on Friday, okay?”

“What’s happening at the saloon on Friday?” she asked.

Now that she thought about it, she’d been so busy the last few days on the farm that she hadn’t even stepped into the saloon. Grandpa had never been much of a drinker, so she assumed that’s why she’d never heard any stories about the place.

“Nothing special,” Sam said, flicking one of the wheels of his skateboard to make it spin. “Just me, Abby, and Seb all get together. It’s kind of a thing, I guess. Since you’re still kinda new, I think it’d be… Well, almost everyone’s there on Fridays, too, so it wouldn’t just be us--”

“I’d love to,” Pepper cut his rambling off, two hands in front of her in surrender. “When should I be there?”

He waved a dismissal hand. “Whenever you get done with all your farm stuff, don’t worry about it too much.”

“I’ll finally get to meet Sebastian, huh?” 

He gasped. “That’s right! Oh man, this is gonna be the best Friday _ever_. I should wash my pants, or something. See you, Peps!” He trotted off, waving over his shoulder.

It wasn’t until almost eight that she had the time to make it back into town; the parsnips were coming up and she wanted to make sure that she got them washed and looking as amazing as they made her feel. It was already dark, and the lamps didn’t shed as much light as the moon and the crisp stars. She’d tried to wash off, but farming turned out to be a dirty business; most of her clothes were dirty, so she’d picked the least crusty-looking outfit and hoped for the best. Old blue jeans that had seen her through college, and that old beaten karate shirt. No one had asked her yet if she knew karate (she did).

The saloon was as packed as Sam had said it would be. There was no jarring record-skip when she walked in, no mass-turning of heads to stare down the newcomer. A few did turn and look (Robin, with her husband, joyfully welcomed her, and Mayor Lewis offered to buy Pepper her first official Stardew Valley beer in honor of her first week’s work).

All the faces in the first room were familiar by now, and Pepper stopped by to see how Gus was doing. She was shanghaied by Emily for a long few minutes, and it was while her newest bartending friend was talking about jewel tones and matching skin types, Pepper caught sight of the Mystery Joja Man.

He had a corner of the bar to himself, out of the light of the fireplace. He watched the floor, and he drank. He looked less soggy than on first impression, but the sour expression still held on his face. So, not necessarily a morning person, but maybe not an evening person either. For a moment, Pepper was sure she’d hop into his line of sight and try again. 

Sam got to her first. He called loudly over the music playing from the jukebox in the corner ( _this_ turned some heads) and wrenched her from her spot in front of Emily, stealing her away to the second room of the saloon.

There was a pool table front and center, a sofa where Abigail sat and waved politely to Pepper when she and Sam appeared. Across the table could only be Sebastian, but Pepper was assuming a lot based on an eyeball she’d seen once. He looked a lot more relaxed than the boy she’d expected to see after their first encounter. He couldn’t have been older than any of them, but he carried himself differently from Sam and Abigail. He had quite a lot of dark hair parted over one side of his face, and though the sleeplessness still had a place on his face, so did a calm little smirk. 

“Hey,” he said when Pepper approached, holding out a hand. “Sorry about first impressions. I’m Sebastian. Sam’s told me… a lot about you.”

Pepper flashed Sam a sly glance, which caught him grinning behind her back. She shook Sebastian’s hand and her expression fell into something softer.

“It’s nice to really meet you. Sam’s said a lot about you, too.”

“He does that,” Sebastian said, monotone. The trio laughed, though at what in particular, Pepper wasn’t sure. 

She had the distinct feeling that, though she was here with the three of them, she wasn’t quite one of them. She wasn’t quite anyone in Pelican Town yet.

The night wore on in Gus’s saloon. She could hear his loud voice over the music even from the other room, laughing and chatting with his regulars. Pepper saw Robin and her husband leave, and the artist who lived in the forest (Pepper was sure her name was Leah, but she’d met so many people over the one week to make her memory foggy) finished her wine and waved her goodbyes. The Mystery Joja Man was still in his corner, and working hard on his fifth beer since Pepper had arrived.

“Who is he?” she found herself asking out loud, even though she hadn’t meant to. Sam leaned in, pool cue almost tapping her nose as he tried to follow her line of sight. 

“Oh, that’s Shane,” he said, settling in beside her while Sebastian checked his shot. “Why, haven’t you introduced yourself yet?”

“I tried to,” she almost laughed, but it didn’t quite come out that way. “I didn’t even get his name, he just… kinda brushed me off and… Do you work with him?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, checking the tip of his cue. “He’s a stocker, I think. He doesn’t really talk to me.”

“He doesn’t really talk to anyone,” Abigail added.

“He comes here every night,” Sebastian said, coming to their side. “Your shot, Sam.”

Sam rushed off to the table, wailing about the miserable table Sebastian had left him. Sebastian took Sam’s spot between Pepper and Abigail, not saying anything for a moment while they watched Sam bemoan the state of the game.

“I think he lives with Marnie,” Sebastian said at last. “Your neighbor.”

“Weird,” Pepper murmured, and suddenly realized that the four of them had been staring at Mystery Joja Man--Shane--for a while now. He thankfully hadn’t noticed (or, if he had, was ignoring them on a professional level). “I’m going to say hi,” she said suddenly, and she was up before Sam had taken his shot.

Yes, she’d had a few drinks. But that didn’t make her reckless. She straightened her back (looking even taller) and walked right up to Mister Mystery Shane Man and introduced herself again.

“Hi,” she said, holding out her hand like she’d tried to do on a rainy gray morning several days ago. “I’m Pepper.”

Shane looked up from the top of his beer, gaze leveling on her hand before flicking up (and up) to her eyes. 

“And I’m still not interested,” he muttered, taking another drink and looking away.

Pepper stared. When she didn’t move, he turned to stare back. 

“Why are you still here?”

Her face went almost as pink as her hair. 

Maybe it was because she’d had a couple drinks, maybe it was because he’d flustered her natural composure, but it was probably because of the way he was glaring at her. She was going to make this man her friend. She was going to make this man talk to her, and he was going to like it. She took a harsh breath, felt the cool air on her hot face, and started again.

“I’m the new farmer.”

Shane’s eyebrows dropped down another notch.

“Okay,” he said, voice like a rock dropped into a pond, breaking the stillness of the saloon with its ripples. 

Emily was the closest, but Pepper could still see Gus watching from the other end of the bar. Even the mayor looked up from his conversation with Marnie. Suddenly, Sam was at her side and guiding her away, asking for her help on aiming a shot, and he was so close to beating Sebastian for once, and…

By the time she looked back, he was gone.

+++

She waited for him.

It wasn’t like the plants couldn’t wait. They were already sprouting soft and green, a few hours wait on their water wouldn’t change anything. But this was different.

She’d made a promise, and Pepper was very determined when she wanted to be. It was half of the reason she was on the farm in the first place.

It wasn’t raining today, but it was still early enough for the sky to have its gray dress on. Pale yellow was beginning to filter through the leaves, and the morning breeze wasn’t quite so cold. Summer would be on its way, soon. 

Pepper stood alone in the town square, chilly, but determined.

The moment he saw her, she saw the breath of his sigh hit the cool morning air, and he turned around.

“Shane,” she said, moving toward his retreat. “Come on, just wait a second.”

“Haven’t I been rude enough to you, yet?” he asked, turning around to face her with a harsh quickness that surprised her. “Do you get it? Leave me alone, okay?”

Her mouth stuck open, and he took the opportunity to brush by her. 

She didn’t know him (he’d certainly made sure of that), but somehow, it found its way into her chest and buried itself there. A little hateful worm buried itself beside her heart and gnawed away, taking the light out of her eyes and taking her down a full notch.

Pepper didn’t see him pause on the bridge and glance back.

“Okay,” she said to no one. But he heard it.

She wondered what Grandpa would do. She wondered that a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the encouragement so far! Sam is the best to write. Hands down. Length is definitely gonna vary by chapter, and not all heart events will be featured... not sure what else there is to say. Thanks again!


	3. Alex

Marnie was on her front step. 

Pepper had barely had the time to get on her work clothes and coffee in her system before she was eye-to-eye with the rancher to her south. They hadn’t interacted much beyond pleasantries in town, but Pepper could see a big heart from a mile away. 

“Oh, good morning, Miss Pepper,” Marnie said, trying to wrangle a white ball of fur in her arms.

“Morning,” Pepper said, half in surprise and half asleep. “What…?”

“You see this cat here?” Marnie asked, finally managing to calm the creature into a purring mass. Its eyes were bright yellow, fur mostly white with colored spots of black and orange on its head. “I just found him wandering near your farm… I think he’s a stray, poor thing!”

The cat took the opportunity to hop from Marnie’s arms and to Pepper’s porch, preening around in the early sun and curled into a small ball.

Marnie chuckled. “He seems to like it here.”

Pepper’s eyes were lamps when Marnie looked back up, and the pair were instantly on the same wavelength.

“Your farm could use a good cat, don’t you think?” Marnie asked.

“Definitely!” Pepper said with an enthusiasm that surprised even her. “I mean, yes, he’s more than welcome.”

“Wonderful!” Marnie said, scrubbing between the cat’s ears fondly. “Oh, I just love animals, Miss Pepper. I’m so glad that you do, too.”

She named him Steven, after her first teddy bear.

+++

  “Hey, farm girl!”

Pepper looked up from the daffodil she was gathering from an unkempt tuft of grass, flipping her hair out of her eyes.

She’d seen him in passing a few times, and she remembered talking to him on her second day after the rain had passed. He was tall, even taller than her, with choppy brown hair and a strong, square face. His name was Alex.

He tossed a gridball in the air and caught it. There was a varsity letter on his green jacket.

“Are you wearing new pants, or something?” he asked, strolling up.

She looked down. Same brown pants as usual, maybe a little more brown than before with the spots of spring mud on her knees.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

He shrugged. He looked fit, even under his jacket, and Pepper felt a sudden flash of heat in her face for looking a little too long at his broad chest. 

“Well, you’re doing something right,” he said, clearly not seeing her embarrassing expression.

“Um, thanks,” she replied, standing and passing the flower awkwardly from one hand to the other. “So, you play gridball?”

His face lit right up. His eyes were almost as green as his jacket.

“I was captain of the team in high school,” he told her proudly. “Did you go to any of the games? Oh,” he faltered. “Right. You’re new.”

“A little,” she laughed. “But I’m a big fan of the Tunnellers. I even tried out in high school, once.”

Alex’s face did a funny little dance, and his eyes did an inspection of their own. She didn’t miss that.

“How’d it go?”

“I probably would’ve made it if I wasn’t a girl,” Pepper said, and it was her turn to shrug. She tried very hard to ignore the piercing look he gave her, and she turned quickly. “I have to stop by Pierre’s. It was nice to see you, Alex.”

“Hey,” Alex called from behind her, ball under his arm as he caught up. “Um, Pepper, right?”

She squinted at him briefly in disbelief (she’d been in this town for a month, come on), but he continued without seeing it.

“When it warms up, do you wanna toss the gridball around, or something? No one around here really gets it, you know?”

Her smile was back (and so was the pink). “Yeah, sure.”

+++

 “And then he invited me to toss the gridball around,” Pepper said disbelievingly, tossing back another drink.

Sam crowed with laughter, almost falling off his stool. Sebastian held Sam’s shoulder in place while Sam regained his composure.

“That’s so weird,” Abigail said for them. “He never talks to _me_. Just stands out in his yard and tries to look like he’s really smooth, or something. I guess sporty’s not my type.”

“Well,” Sebastian started, taking a drink and thinking before he picked his words. “Will you?”

“What, throw a ball around?” She was glad that Sebastian was finally engaging in conversation with her--for the longest time, he just sat outside their circle and listened.

“He _likes_ you, Peps!” Sam said quite loudly, shaking her shoulder. “Oh my gosh, I’m kinda proud! Like, is this what being a dad feels like?”

“What?” Pepper’s whole face turned a dark shade. She fought with a smile, and the smile won. “No, he just wants to talk about gridball because no one else gets it.”

“Everyone watches gridball,” Sebastian said coolly, but there was something not unlike a smirk on his face. “Even me, sometimes. If I want an easy laugh.”

“He’s trying to pick you up, Pepper,” Abigail added, her lips curling up almost mischievously. 

She’d never even thought about it. “I guess I’ve just been so busy on the farm,” she started out of nowhere, her flustered thoughts jumbling with her words. “I don’t know, I guess he’s--” 

She broke into laughter with the rest of them, Sam getting out “look at her face!” edgeways between giggles.

The night wound down, Sebastian won a few more games of pool, and Sam even let Abigail have his cue and try her hand at a game. Pepper sighed, watching them from the bar and smiling.

She was _happy_. It’d taken a while, but she finally felt like she was getting the hang of this place. She had her own house. She had friends. She had a job. She wasn’t miserable. She may or may not have an admirer (she was still convinced they were just yanking her chain, but the more she thought about it, the more she decided she wouldn’t mind if it were true).

Blinking, Pepper looked up to see Shane glancing over his beer from his corner. He looked at his feet again, brows angling even further down his forehead.

She’d tried not to give him a lot of thought. Not since he’d effortlessly hurt her with a few well-placed comments. Maybe tonight was a good time to bury the axe and just forget about it completely. 

Pepper placed a fresh beer on the table in front of Shane, scooting it into his line of sight. He looked up sharply, accusatory, but his face backed off the moment he saw Pepper already had her own drink in her hand.

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” she said. “Just forget about it, okay? I hope this is enough to make up for being annoying.” She wondered if she should smile, so she did.

“Uh,” Shane said as she turned to leave him. When he didn’t look like he was contemplating murder, he looked a lot younger. He actually looked at her. “Thanks,” he said, and there was a lighter sound in his voice. Disbelief?

Pepper nodded, a little confused, but turned and went back to her friends.

+++

 Willy had told her that one of the best times for fishing was right before dawn, before the light could get to the water and start warming it up. She’d never considered herself a fisherwoman (she didn’t really even like the taste) but it _was_ a calming way to start the day. And it seemed to cheer Willy up when she showed up with a fresh catch.

She was at the river just across from Sam’s house, waiting for him to wake up, when she heard someone behind her. Pepper looked up just in time to see Shane passing on the path, and though he didn’t look up, he did slow.

“Hi,” he finally said, low enough that she was sure he didn’t want her to hear.

She blinked in amazement. “Hi, Shane,” she said back.

He sighed, like he hadn’t wanted to be caught being civil, and he continued his long plod to JojaMart.


	4. egg festival

Pepper appeared in the town square to bountiful decorations and the entire swath of the Valley’s population spread out around her. Pierre had set up a booth, handing a plush rabbit to Marnie and Jas, reminding them of his sale on Thursday. Over the booth, someone (probably Caroline) had painted a pretty sign that said “Stardew Valley Egg Festival”. 

She blanched. She remembered getting the letter from Mayor Lewis yesterday, but she’d just been so busy (fishing for Willy, growing those potatoes, staring down the long black hole in the abandoned mine and contemplating for a very long time climbing down--but she hadn’t) she’d completely forgotten about the festival.

“You look lost,” said a voice somewhere close. She was even more surprised to see that it was Shane. The man who had voluntarily said two words to her. She guessed this brought it up to five.

“I… forgot.” She couldn’t lie with an open face like hers. She never had been able to.

“Our hens are really proud of these eggs,” Shane said, and for once (except for the night he’d said thank you) looked like he wasn’t about to stab someone. He might even look happy.

“Right,” Pepper remembered, perking right up out of her confusion in the presence of actual human interaction. “You’re Marnie’s nephew. You’re living on the ranch, right?”

He nodded. “For now. Uh,” he said, and the cloud passed over his face again. “Anyway, have an egg, or something.”

“Thanks,” she said to his back, and he plopped himself heavily into one of the empty chairs at the nearest table. Emily, shocked from her conversation with Gus, looked up at Pepper and started to giggle.

“Pepper,” Sebastian called, waving her over to their corner near Sam’s house. Pepper moved away, waving to Emily and Gus before she left them.

“So?” Abigail asked as soon as she arrived, a hungry look in her eyes. “Are you going to go for it?”

“Go for what?” Pepper asked (thoughts immediately bouncing between Alex and Emily and Shane and eggs).

“The egg hunt!” Abigail cried, clutching her fists. “It’s the only thing I look forward to this time of year. I’m going to _destroy_ the competition.”

“Dat’s my lil’ brudder,” Sam cut in, and Pepper could hardly stifle the laugh.

“Are you okay?” Pepper asked, trying very hard to crush her grin.

“Allerdgees,” Sam sniffled. “I’ll be ogay.”

“She wins every year,” Sebastian said, digging in his pants pockets until he found a handful of tissues and handed them to Sam (who looked at them like they were made of gold). “I wouldn’t even try.”

“It’s okay you admit you’re scared,” Abigail preened. 

Sebastian leveled a very even look at Pepper that said ‘oh, you wish’. 

Abigail decimated everyone. It couldn’t be said that she shoved children out of her way on her hunt for the eggs, but rather that children leapt out of her path when they saw her egg-hungry look coming their way. 

Pepper didn’t try very hard, to be fair. Mostly, she saw the way Jas was struggling behind Vincent and snuck some of her eggs into the little girl’s basket when she thought Jas wasn’t looking (but she turned out to be a very observant girl, as Pepper found the eggs back in her own basket the moment she’d turned away).

Some of them stayed behind after the festival to clean up, and Pepper convinced Sebastian to stay with her (Abigail needed to study and no one could justify keeping poor puffy Sam out a minute longer). By the time they’d gathered up most of the missing eggs and rolled up all the banners and streamers, it was well past dark. Pepper was glad to have done most of her farm work before she’d come into town. She said her goodbyes to Sebastian, who nodded as he lit a cigarette and headed home.

As Pepper passed Marnie, she noticed the woman was trying to carry four buckets of leftover eggs in two hands.

“Hey, neighbor,” Pepper said, swooping in and offering a hand.

“Oh, Miss Pepper,” Marnie breathed, standing back to her full height from her hunch. “I couldn’t ask you to stay out any later.”

“You’d do the same for me,” Pepper said, and without a retort from her neighbor, the two of them retreated toward the ranch and the woods.

The noise of the insects was getting louder, Pepper noted. Much louder here, on the edge of the Cindersap Forest than at her own farm (still half overgrown and needing a more firm hand if she was going to make it into anything more than a sad reminder of Grandpa’s success). Pepper got the eggs as far as Marnie’s doorstep and waved away most of her neighbor’s adulations. 

As Pepper was about to take the path north from Marnie’s ranch into her own farm, a glimmer of strange light caught her eye. Something reflected off the lake’s still water, dim but still visible from a distance. She didn’t think it was a boat or a ghost, but still… Better to check it out and for it to be nothing than something gone unchecked. She tucked the hardboiled eggs Marnie had given her as payment into her satchel and hitched it higher on her shoulder, heading toward the lake.

It didn’t smell like the ocean. The lake was still, quiet, and smelled like the surrounding stands of pine. The dock creaked when she stepped out onto it, and it wasn’t until she was almost upon the figure slumped at the end of it that she realized who she was sneaking up on.

“Oh,” she vocalized against her will, and with an embarrassed sniff she turned immediately around.

“Hey,” came a voice she didn’t expect to call her back. “Come on, sit down.”

Shane was illuminated by a small standing lantern at his side on the edge of the dock. He had a can of beer in his hand and half a pack sitting on his opposite side. Pepper moved closer, and when he didn’t protest, she settled down beside the beer.

He didn’t look at her when he freed a can from its plastic and handed it over. She lingered a moment when she took it from him, looking at the slump of his figure and the tired, faraway look in his eyes. Maybe it was just the lighting, but he looked paler than usual. 

“The eggs were good,” Pepper said absently. “Marnie gave me some to take home.”

Shane nodded like he hadn’t heard her, watching the lake and the way it pooled around his ankles. Pepper felt something shrink in her chest, but she didn’t say anything else. Despite everything between them up to this point (or the lack thereof), he’d asked her here. She didn’t think that she was the kind of person who would run off after a sincere invitation. Unless he was just paying her back for the beer she’d bought him in the saloon. 

Nevertheless, she stayed. They drank in silence, almost through her first beer, before he opened his mouth again.

“I’m--” he started, but he stopped again very quickly. “Buh,” he breathed out, scrubbing his eyes with one hand. “ _Life_.”

Pepper leveled her gaze at him, steady; open but not quite prying. It wasn’t necessarily the sort of thing that led to interjection. _Life._

Shane took another quick draw from his beer and crumpled the empty can on the dock beside him. As he seamlessly popped himself another one free of the six pack, he handed another to Pepper, who had just gone empty. They both popped their tabs at the same time. 

And Shane just looked into the top of his can, like he was about to fall into it.

“Do you ever feel…” Shane started. His voice was lower than usual, slurred by his drink (or the drink already working on her). “Like no matter what you do, you’re gonna fail? Like you’re stuck in some miserable abyss and you’re so deep… you can’t even see the light of day?”

Pepper’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. What the heck was she supposed to say to something like that? It took her a long moment before she shut her mouth again--she wasn’t _supposed_ to say anything. 

He took another long drink (she wondered how many he’d had before she’d found him; she hadn’t seen him since the egg hunt) and shook another hand through his hair, sending it in all new directions. He still hadn’t looked up at her, maybe forgot she was there, but there was some sad look on his face that said he couldn’t stop what was coming out of his mouth.

“Sometimes… I just feel like, no matter how hard I try… I’m not strong enough to climb out of that hole.”

His voice broke at the end, but he cleared his throat to mask it.

_Holy moly_ , Pepper thought with a long sigh. She’d been hit with a bomb. It was still going off somewhere in her brain, and she was sure that after a moment, she’d be able to actually process everything he’d just told her. Shane, the guy she had to wrangle a hello out of, had just drunkenly poured his metaphorical heart out over a couple cold ones. 

Still a little overwhelmed, she tossed back her beer and guzzled almost half of it.

By the time she’d wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and focused back on him, the darkness in his face was gone and he was halfway through a chuckle. 

“Fast drinker, huh?” he asked, polishing his own drink off by slamming it back. “Woman after my own heart,” he added without a thought, crushing the can. He indicated the can: “Just don’t make it a habit.”

Pepper didn’t realize just how flushed she was (the drink, that was it) until he patted her shoulder and used her as a fulcrum to stand up, wobbling.

“You’ve got a future ahead of you, still.”

She didn’t even have time to think of something to say before he scooped up the rest of his six pack (they’d really decimated it together) and waved without turning back to her. “See ya around, Pepper.”

It was the first time he called her by name.

What a night. She sat at the end of the pier, listening to the groans of the frogs all around her, staring into the reflection of the stars in the black water around her, and slowly finishing her beer. Ignoring the strange quivering in her stomach and the growing chill.


	5. magic

Sam’s door was shut, but it didn’t mask the noise coming out of his room. Jodi was adamantly ignoring it (or at least having the appearance of effortlessly ignoring it), and Vincent had had the brilliant notion of taking his activities outside. Sam was noodling tunelessly on his guitar, and quiet keyboard notes backed him up as best they could.

“Nah,” Sam sighed just as Pepper knocked on his door to make herself known, turning the handle and coming in. “I still don’t like it.”

Sebastian looked up first from behind the synthesizer, didn’t immediately say anything, but did give her a small wave. Sam, effectively lost in his music, continued to not see her. So she leaned back on his dresser, listening with a growing grin. Sebastian smirked at her, shaking his head just slightly, and went back to backing up Sam’s insane noodling. 

At last, Sam shrugged his guitar strap off of his shoulder and swung the instrument itself away from his body, looking like a man about to launch into a speech--until he saw Pepper waiting patiently behind him.

“Oh!” he began, eyes bright. “Hi Peps! Sebastian and I were just having a little ‘jam session’.” His use of exaggerated air quotes almost caused him to lose grip on the neck of his guitar, but caught it at the last second. “We’re trying to start a band but…” Sam sighed. “I still can’t pick a sound. There’s so many possibilities.”

Sebastian shot Pepper a look that spoke of many, _many_ “jam sessions” that ended with yet another Sam Rejection (the look also said that Sebastian didn’t get a lot of say about the elusive “sound” they were looking for).

“Oh!” Sam practically shouted, shocking both Pepper and Sebastian from their thoughts. “I got it! Peps!”

“Sam?” Pepper laughed.

“What kind of music do _you_ like?”

The first thought wasn’t helpful (a little bit of everything, really), but when she really took a moment to think, it wasn’t that hard to choose.

“Something I can dance to,” she said. “High-energy, with a great beat.”

“You like to dance?” Sebastian asked.

“Yeah!” Sam interjected. “That sounds exactly like what we need! For the band,” he added, a little more seriously, as if to make sure they were all still on the same page. “What d’you think, Seb? Should we do this?”

Sebastian paused, then shrugged. “Okay.”

“Thanks a lot, Peps,” Sam said, re-fastening the strap around himself and plucking out a few notes on the guitar. “With my guitar skills and Sebastian’s wizardry on the synthesizer, we’re gonna be a screaming success! Now we just need a drummer…” he mused out loud.

“What did you want, anyway?” Sebastian asked.

“Oh!” Pepper said (she was hanging around Sam too much, it’d completely slipped her mind). “I was going to give you this!”

The three of them shared the fresh pizza from Gus’s oven on the floor of Sam’s bedroom, listening to Sam hum mindlessly to himself, already working on their new “sound.”

+++

Pepper was late. Though, technically, it wasn’t really something that she could really be late _to_ , but on her own self-imposed schedule she was very behind.

It was already almost nine, and she’d wanted to be in town by eight at the latest. But one of her hens was apparently upset at her, and Steven was being particularly affectionate (attaching himself to Pepper’s legs at least three times before she was out the front door). So she had to run to catch up with Shane before he crossed the threshold to JoJaMart (she hadn’t stepped inside even once, she couldn’t stand the way the Joja Air smelled).

“Shane!” she called out for the second time, and he finally heard her and stopped on the North Bridge, brows pinched and looking even more tired than usual. But his tired frown was no match for the glowing, slightly sweaty smile that looked down on him from Pepper’s pink face.

“What do you want, Pepper?” he sighed. 

It had been strange, the past week. He hadn’t really acknowledged the night on the pier, and he still was never quite happy to see her, but his hostility had dropped to a simmer. And on her part, she had cranked up her enthusiasm to full blast. How could she hear all of that, all of those dark words, and not try to brighten up at least a few of his dark corners? 

“Well, I know how much you like eggs,” Pepper began, and suddenly she felt the overwhelming desire to waffle aimlessly. She literally could not help herself from talking in increasingly embarrassing fragments. “I mean, at the Egg Festival… And since we’re friends now--” He scoffed, but just barely. “You told me… to have an egg…”

And suddenly she was laughing, her posture breaking into something easy and loose. “I’m sorry. Happy Birthday.”

She revealed a basket of eggs from behind her back, tied with a strip of green fabric (she had wanted to use ribbon, but had been too embarrassed to ask Emily, even if the girl would certainly have helped her out; it’d been torn from an old work shirt that she’d ripped a hole in and forgotten in a corner, and that Steven had been using as a bed).

He looked at the offering blankly, then back up at Pepper’s face. 

Something was different in his voice when he said: “You remembered my birthday?” But he cleared his throat quickly, taking the basket from her hands gingerly. His tone was conversational and cynical again when he continued his thought. “I’m impressed. Thanks,” he added, even lower.

“You’re welcome,” Pepper said, almost too perky even for her.

“Uh,” he said after a pause. “What am I supposed to do with these?”

Pepper’s smile flickered away for a moment, confusion flitting onto her brow. “Well, they’re eggs. You eat them.”

Shane actually laughed, and shot her a withering look. “I know what an egg is. I mean, I’m going to _work_ , what am I supposed to _do_ with them?”

“Oh,” Pepper said, joy draining from her face to be replaced with pale, stark embarrassment. “Oh my gosh,” she continued. What had she been thinking?

“It’s fine,” Shane said, not cutting in or particularly reassuring, but it calmed her down regardless. “I’ll sneak them into the break room, or something. Maybe Morris will finally have a heart attack.” At the look that crossed Pepper’s face, Shane added, “That was a joke.”

She would have to get a hang of Shane if she was going to make a real shot at being friends.

+++

Pepper couldn’t believe her eyes. She literally couldn’t believe them, going by Mayor Lewis’s reaction. Was she seeing things? Had she been working too hard on the farm? Maybe it _had_ just been a couple of rats (a couple of multi-colored, spherical rats that popped in and out of existence).

But what if she hadn’t been seeing things? What if those things weren’t rats?

She sat in the farmhouse late into the night, listening to the rain and petting Steven by the fire. Whatever she’d seen, whether it had been her own imagination or something actually hiding in the community center, she wanted to know for sure. So, she decided, she was going back tomorrow to find out for herself. By herself. 

She hoped that, if there _was_ something living there, it wasn’t hungry.

But, as it turned out, she didn’t need to do her own investigating. A mysterious letter in her mailbox instructed her to the crumbling tower on the edge of the Cindersap Forest, a structure she’d thought was abandoned at first (but some nights, on her way home, she could see glimmers of odd colors through the windows, and she wasn’t so sure).

The man that called himself the Wizard (M. Rasmodius; she’d almost expected an “Esquire” or “the Third) was very tall, but not thin. He might have been intimidating if Pepper wasn’t as tall and broad as she was (did karate work on wizards?), with his wide-brimmed black hat and his full, carefully trimmed purple beard. He had a very serious face, serious dark eyes, and a low voice that he didn’t need to raise to be heard. 

The room he invited Pepper into was close and hot, smelling oddly acidic--likely due to whatever he was boiling in his actual cauldron. 

“Mister Rasmodius,” Pepper began, settling onto the offered stool, “I’m sure you understand when I say I don’t really… _believe_ in wizards.”

“Hm,” he intoned, walking to a section of the floor he had drawn circles and stars on. “Regardless of your beliefs, I’ve forseen your arrival in the valley. Behold,” he said, waving his hand at the circle on the floor. He’d even surrounded it with lit candles.

Pepper actually screamed when the creature appeared in the center of that circle in a flash of light. She was up off the stool before she knew that she’d moved at all, and, slapping a hand hard over her own mouth to muffle the noise, she pointed wordlessly at the creature.

It was exactly the thing that she’d seen in the community center. There was no doubt in her mind. It looked right at her, and made a tiny noise almost like a bird.

The wizard didn’t seem to react in the slightest to her embarrassing display, though he did observe it and nod. “You’ve seen one before, haven’t you?”

“Ye… Yeah,” Pepper said, trying to handle the sudden crush of the fact that magic was happening right in front of her and was very, very real.

“They call themselves the Junimo,” he said. “I’m not sure why they’ve moved into the community center, but you have no reason to fear them.” He banished the creature with a wave of his hand, and the room seemed suddenly darker.

And that was how Pepper met the wizard, learned about elemental spirits and magic, and straight-up drank a potion that gave her visions of the forest and tasted like pine needles.

Everything was different, she realized as she wandered home late that night. She was different; the _world_ was different.

No, she thought again, the world hadn’t changed. Not really, anyway. It had always been there, and _she_ was the one that was new in this strange, magical, wonderful place. _Stardew Valley_ was different, and Grandpa had given her the chance to meet these people, see these crazy, amazing things.

Holding Steven, cradling him close to her face and listening to him purr, she let herself cry. Even if he was gone, Grandpa was still giving her so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd honestly considered not including much about the magical side of Stardew Valley until I actually wrote it down. It may not seem like it plays a large part in the story when playing, but so much of the background is magical that it was hard not to (also, I like that wizard fella). There might not be a lot about the Junimo featured in the fic, but I couldn't just let it happen without them.


	6. flower dance

“Pepper! Come in!”

Emily’s face was brimming full of a pretty grin as she held up a wide swath of white fabric. Pepper sat on the edge of the girl’s work table, admiring the fabric but cocking her head in confusion.

“It’s pretty, but…”

“What is it?” Emily intoned for her, sidling up alongside Pepper and holding the fabric close up against the exposed skin on the farmer’s arm. “You’re new in the valley, so I didn’t guess you’d know. But the Flower Dance in coming up, soon.”

Pepper vaguely remembered hearing some buzz in town over the past few days, but she’d expected it to be something for the kids to enjoy. Then again, she thought, blushing, she hadn’t asked.

“What happens at the Flower Dance?” Pepper asked, and Emily waltzed away to a naked dress form in the corner of her colorful room.

Emily laughed. “You dance! Pepper, honestly.”

She blushed even deeper.

Emily returned to her side with a length of measuring tape. “May I?”

“Oh,” Pepper started, standing as Emily moved into her space. “Um, yes?”

Emily hummed to herself, taking measurements of Pepper’s arms and shoulders, her legs to her knees, and her bust (Pepper’s face was full red, but either Emily ignored it or she was being very, _very_ polite).

“Who… do you dance _with_?” Pepper asked as innocuously as she could with Emily’s arms wrapped around her.

“We sort of… pair off,” Emily said, noting numbers on a nearby writing pad. “But if we’re asked, who knows what could happen,” she added with a pretty smile.

“So, the fabric,” Pepper prompted.

“Oh, it’s your dress!” Emily intoned cheerfully. “Isn’t it just your color?”

“Emily,” Pepper laughed. “How--”

“Oh my goodness, Pepper,” Emily gasped suddenly. “I didn’t even ask! Would you rather wear the suit?”

Pepper shook her head (how was she even supposed to know what the suit looked like?) and held her hands out to stop Emily’s sudden rambling.

“Thank you, but I can’t just ask you to make a dress for me,” Pepper said, a strange feeling clogging her throat.

“Well,” Emily began, winking, “you never really asked me, did you?” She twirled back to the dress form, already sticking pins in. “It should be ready in a few days, but definitely before the dance! Even if you don’t get to dance with who you want to, you should look _beautiful_!”

And suddenly, Pepper had something brand new to worry about. Who was she going to dance with? Was anyone even going to want to dance with her?

+++

She spent a very long time worrying. So much, in fact, that several people had decided to point out to her that she wasn’t acting like herself. Over the three days between finding the package from Emily on her front porch (the dress was fabulous, light and full of movement, and fit her perfectly) and the impending Flower Dance, Pepper had run face-first into Harvey’s clinic door (he assured her that her nose wasn’t broken but gave her painkillers anyway) and almost flattened Penny and the kids in a blind rush through the square (no one was hurt, but Pepper spent minutes apologizing regardless).

It was so unlike her, she thought, to be worried about such a little thing. Just a dance, just a silly little dance (with the whole town watching, and most of her friends dancing, and what if she tripped or couldn’t get someone to dance with her, what if everyone just felt sorry for her). But with it being all the people of the valley were interested in talking about, Pepper was sure she was going to have some kind of episode before the week was out.

As it was, Pepper could hardly get any farm work done the day of the dance. She had seriously considered staying home, sitting it out and maybe catching it next year when her nerves had died down and she wasn’t afraid to make a fool out of herself in front of the people she had spent months trying to get to like her.

But then, that wouldn’t be very _her_ of her, would it? No, Pepper was the kind of girl who would do something even if she was afraid (especially if she was afraid). She’d left everything behind to live in Stardew Valley, hadn’t she? What was a dance compared to getting Grandpa’s farm running again?

So she found herself in an open field, trying very hard not to fidget, and feeling very _big_. Her legs felt too long (like exposed tree trunks, sticking out from under the hem of her dress and feeling too muscular and not slim and pretty like Haley in her crown of flowers), her arms felt too heavy, and she wondered if she looked like a complete fool.

“Wow!” Sam said, completely disregarding tact or subtlety. “Peps! Is that even you in there?”

“Stop it, Sam,” Abigail said with a laugh, stepping up to Pepper’s side. “I think she looks fine.”

“I didn’t--” Sam started, backpedaling hard. “No, you look--she looks--Peps--”

“We’re all going to look ridiculous,” Sebastian said for all of them.It helped, especially when they laughed together. It helped some of the tension flood out of her.

“Who are you dancing with?” Pepper asked (she didn’t realize how doing her chores would make her so late, and almost everyone was already here and mingling).

“Sebastian and I are already dancing together,” Abigail said, nudging her partner playfully. “Neither one of us really wants to dance anyway, so why not make it easy on each other?”

Sebastian nodded noncommittally.

“Sam?” Pepper asked (if she could do the same and just make it easy, keep the four of them together, her mind would be at ease so quickly).

“Oh, uh,” he began, and for once actually looking flustered. “Well, Penny already asked me, and I didn’t know if you were coming, so I totally said yes.”

“It’s okay,” Pepper interrupted before he could ramble into incoherence. “I… I don’t even need to dance. It’s fine.”

“Why don’t you just ask?” Abigail prompted.

She didn’t ask. Pepper stood at the refreshment table near Gus and stared into a cup of punch with a darkening expression on her normally strong face. She’d seriously considered going up to Alex and just asking him to dance, but Haley had beat her to it by the look of things. So she swirled the punch in her cup (and she was pretty sure that Pam had spiked it with something, but she didn’t particularly care at the moment).

“Dammit,” she heard someone breathe from nearby, accompanied with the small sounds of a struggle. Pepper looked up to see Shane standing a few feet away, trying to button up his suit. “Stupid…” he muttered, low in a way to keep his struggle to himself. After a moment, Shane threw up his arms and gave up the fight, leaving his suit jacket open (he hadn’t really bothered with the look, one of his old green shirts was underneath and the colors clashed hideously).

Pepper smiled.

“Hey,” she said, sidling up cautiously.

He looked up once, disinterested. And then he did a very obvious double take. And when she noticed, he occupied himself with taking a long drink of the punch.

“I hate this stupid suit,” he grumbled. “The only good thing about this dance is the food.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair and gave a long, horrible sigh. “But I’m kinda supposed to dance with Emily.”

It surprised her, to be honest. She’d seen them talk at the saloon, if off-handedly and in short bursts, but it occurred to Pepper that Shane and Emily were probably, actually, friends. Her honest face turned a pale red and she looked at her feet--it _had_ been awfully naïve to assume…

“You, um…” Shane started, and then stopped, and then drank more punch.

“I could dance with her,” Pepper said suddenly.

Shane blinked at her in silence.

“If you hate it. I could dance with her instead. So you don’t have to.” She scuffed the grass with one of her feet.

Suddenly, asking someone and being rejected didn’t matter so much. Suddenly, she didn’t know why it had bothered her so much in the first place.

“Uh,” he said, almost like he’d really wanted to say something else (or like she’d said something he didn’t expect). “Sure. If she wants to, I guess.”

Pepper smiled, almost too bright for her own face. “So you’re off the hook.” She patted his shoulder and took off to find her partner.

“Yeah,” he replied. But he didn’t sound happy at all.

+++

“I don’t know the steps,” Pepper breathed, her fingers tingling with (excitement? Nerves?) anticipation.

“Just relax,” Emily told her, her pretty face even and calm. “Pepper, there’s no pressure. Just dance with me however comes naturally.”

“Okay,” Pepper replied, taking Emily’s proffered hand. “Naturally. Assuming I’ve ever danced in my life.”

“I’m not your first dance, am I?”

“It kinda feels like it,” Pepper laughed.

And they danced. Emily led. Everyone’s eyes _were_ on them (they were the only two girls dancing together, after all; and even if they weren’t the talk of the town, it was certainly something different), but when Emily led her, Pepper didn’t really seem to care.

She even managed to smile. The dress Emily had made fanned out around her when she spun.

After the dance, after the pairs of dancers had circled and twirled their hearts out and the sun was dropping out of the sky, Pepper sat on the grass and listened to the noises of the valley coming in around them. She listened to the sound of her friends talking and laughing. She listened to Vincent and Jas imitating the dance they’d just seen, giggling and leaping through the grass and the flowers. She closed her eyes, and tried to tell her heart to stop pounding.


	7. sobering experience

It was the day after the dance. Pepper remembered very clearly, because it had rained the day after the dance and she had stayed inside for almost half an hour looking at her dress and reminiscing (and even though it was white, Steven had already managed to get hair all over it). 

It was the last day of spring. There was still a chill to the morning air, but the insects were already beginning their chorus as Pepper woke and started her rounds on the farm. She’d gone through her finances the night before and had decided to take Marnie up on the offer to take another hen in. The eggs were a plus, but it was the feathery companionship that Pepper was looking forward to.

The sun was up, but it was still before lunch, and Pepper was hoping to catch Marnie after she’d already done her own rounds on the ranch. 

She heard Marnie’s voice coming from somewhere when she stepped into the house, though she couldn’t discern the words (though she was sure she’d never heard Marnie raise her voice like that). Pepper stepped further inside, peering around to see what the ruckus was about. 

Jas was standing in the kitchen, looking far older than a little girl really should. Her big, dark eyes were sad, and they settled immediately on Pepper as she entered.

“Hi Jas,” Pepper said, going to one knee beside the girl. “Is something wrong?” 

She was quiet at first (she still hadn’t warmed up to Pepper, but at least she wasn’t ignoring her anymore). “I think so,” she said at last, twisting her small hands.

“Shane?” came Marnie’s voice again, this time much more distinct. Pepper’s head snapped up (something squeezing hard in her chest), and she told Jas to wait in the kitchen.

At first, she thought he was asleep. But then Pepper saw Marnie crouching over him like that--shaking his shoulder _hard_ \--and surrounded by empty cans.

“Shane?” Pepper’s panicked voice joined in.

(Visions of the night on the lake, the pale yellow lantern light fracturing in the ripples around his ankles, his blank look as he stared down another empty can; what was she supposed to say? Why was he telling her this?)

“Miss Pepper,” Marnie breathed, looking up sharply. “Can you do something? He’s out cold.”

Pepper rushed by Jas (still standing nervously in the kitchen) to fill an empty bucket with cold water. Within a few moments, she was back--wordlessly asking Marnie with her eyes if this was okay. Marnie nodded, moving to her feet and out of the way.

Shane woke with something that was more than a growl, but not quite a scream. He sputtered and stumbled to his feet, shaking the cold water out of his hair and eyes. He heaved a few long breaths, eyes not focusing for a tense moment.

“What the hell?!” he burbled, still spitting out the water Pepper had thrown on him. He looked between Pepper and Marnie, back to Pepper with a dazed look that had faded from shock and anger to something darker.

“What’s the matter with you?” Marnie hissed--but she didn’t look angry. She looked hurt… _heartbroken_. It made Pepper’s chest ache even more than before, to see her kindhearted neighbor with that pain all over her face. “All you ever do anymore is mope in your room and drink!”

Shane didn’t look her in the eye, didn’t look at either of them (trying to keep his balance), but Pepper saw his fists go tight. “You wouldn’t understand,” he said between clenched teeth.

“I’m worried, Shane,” Marnie pleaded, trying to move closer (like approaching a wounded animal). “What’s your plan? Don’t you ever think about the future?”

“ _Plan_?” Shane scoffed, wrenching off his drenched sweatshirt and throwing it, sopping, over the foot of his bed (a sloppy motion, full of disgust). “Hopefully I won’t be around long enough to need a ‘plan’.”

None of them had seen Jas in the doorway until she gave out the tiniest, saddest little choke of a sob. Shane’s head snapped up, suddenly ghostly pale--it punched Pepper in the gut. And when Jas took off running out of the room, Marnie was after her like a shot.

“Jas!” Shane called, and with an unsure step toward the door, he lost his footing and stumbled to the ground. Pepper reached out, but he immediately rejected the arms offered to him. But it wasn’t anger anymore. It was something worse. “I’m sorry…” he rumbled under his breath, pitiful. And his face crumpled, pinched into an expression that fought against everything trying to come out of him. He tried to hide it, fist crushing into his head at the temple to shield him somehow.

Like she’d done with Jas, Pepper came slowly to one knee beside him. She was lost. “Shane,” she found herself saying (she should have left with Marnie, should have gone after Jas, but she couldn’t stop herself from butting in—trying to help).

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Shane snapped, not even looking at her.

Everything inside of her coiled up and hardened against him, but she fought it. She would _not_ let anger have her. She took that snake and she wrangled it back under her control. 

“No,” she told him, very firm.

His breath shook out of him, and his voice was tight when he spoke again. “Dammit. Why do you even bother?”

“I told you,” Pepper began, taking his arm and pulling him to his feet. “We’re friends, now. Come on.”

By the time she had left him to stand under a cold shower for a long handful of minutes and find clean (dry) clothes, Pepper had a pot of coffee and two mugs waiting. She poured one for him and scooted it across the table toward the empty chair beside her.

“You don’t have to talk,” she said quietly, eyes steady on him. “Just sit, okay?”

He still didn’t look at her. But he sat, and he drank his coffee, and he sobered up in that shared silence with her.

Pepper didn’t end up bringing a new hen home that last day of spring. She spent the day at Marnie’s ranch, sitting in Jas’s room and listening to her explain the complex backstories for each of her dolls. The girl was so young, but sometimes she acted so much older. Pepper was starting to understand why.

“Aunt Marnie isn’t really my aunt,” Jas said softly between exposition. Pepper looked up from the doll Jas had handed her (a girl with soft blonde hair that was worn thin in spots). “She’s Shane’s aunt. We just live with her.”

Pepper didn’t say anything (she was bad at giving advice, she always had been; but she was a good listener). She didn’t press the issue, especially when Jas moved on to the complicated relationships between her dolls, but the thought stuck with her.

She was, in a lot of ways, still just a stranger here. She wanted so hard to fit in, to be a part of the valley just like everyone else was. To have her story intertwine with the people she’d come to know and appreciate. But she was hardly a page in her _own_ book, let alone a footnote in Marnie, Shane, and Jas’s narrative. If she hadn’t been there, would anything have even been different? Had she had any affect at all? Would she ever?

Marnie was cooking in silence when Pepper made a move to leave--it was well past dinner time, and she needed to make sure the hens were all safe inside--but she managed to catch Shane’s eye before she slipped out. He was setting the table for Marnie, four settings.

“Oh, no,” Pepper realized she said aloud. “I couldn’t, I have to get home, but--”

“Just sit, okay?” Shane cut in, muted but loud enough for her to hear; and loud enough for Marnie to turn from the oven and smile sadly at her.

“You’ve been so good to Jas today, Miss Pepper,” Marnie said, placing steaming hot, fresh bread in the middle of the table. “The least we can do is give you a decent meal and some company.”

The small, sad something in her chest that had started nesting there since she found Shane on the floor started to melt. And then it started to warm. It must have shown on her face, because Marnie clapped her hands together once, smiling and moving away to tend to the rest of the food.

Shane looked like he wanted very much to say something (or that he wanted to break the plate he was staring hard at in two, but probably the former), but he let it out in a sigh.

“So this is what _friends_ do, huh?” he asked once Marnie had stepped away. There was something that attempted to be a smile on his mouth, but it was short-lived. “Butt in on people’s business and soak their favorite hoodies?”

“That’s part of it, I think,” Pepper laughed, and the cold feeling was gone. 

He laughed with her, like he wasn’t quite sure how to. But she’d help him learn. What are friends for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I'm writing this fic for NaNoWriMo, so chances are, updates are gonna come quick and hard. keep your eye out for further Adventures of Farmer Pepper!


	8. Jas's birthday

The sun was hot in Stardew Valley, but not enough to keep Farmer Pepper inside. She’d always had the sort of skin that didn’t burn easily, but even she’d gone pink in the cheeks and the tips of her ears. The hens loved the temperature change, and they flitted in and out of the tall grass she kept for them—she watched from the little plot of garden in front of the house, smiling.

She still wasn’t a great farmer. She felt that her produce, while colorful and healthy, was a bit on the small side. While she got a sense of fulfillment from picking bright red hot peppers and sticking them in her basket for safe keeping, it was taking care of her animals that really got her out of bed in the morning.

(Steven could take care of himself, mostly. Like the way he was currently sitting on a fence post and watching the hens play in the grass, interspersed with licking himself and lying prone in the dirt and the sun.)

She was saving up what money she got from her crops toward renovations on the house itself (Robin had been more than excited to draw up a few plans, maybe an extension if they were feeling adventurous), but most of her earnings were spent on the animals. She didn’t need any new clothes, her tools were serving her just fine for the time being. It was nice, she thought as she watched the leaves dancing in the breeze, to be needed. 

On one sunny, bright blue summer afternoon in particular, Pepper found herself on the beach. She wasn’t the only one who thought that the sand and the salt water spray might be a relief from the beating rays of the sun—Haley was sprawled out on a beach towel, lifting her sunglasses only once when Pepper walked nearby; Sam and Vincent were playing in the waves just at the water’s edge, laughing; Leah had her watercolors out, staring at the mix of colors in the sea.

“Hey, farm girl!” Alex called, jogging up behind her.

Pepper whipped around to find him. His jacket was off, tied around his waist, and he was already sweating through his thin white shirt. He had the gridball in one hand, and he was waving at her with the other.

“Sorry,” he added, stopping by her, “I mean: hey, Pepper.”

“I don’t mind Farm Girl,” she admitted, giggling (stupidly). He smirked; it didn’t look as cocky as it usually did on his face.

“So, go long, Farm Girl,” he chuckled, waving her out. 

She caught the long drive, even with her palms as sweaty as they were (and even with all the pretty shells banging around in her bag). He laughed again, brighter this time, then egged her to toss it back.

It had been a long time since she’d even entertained the idea of playing. She may have been working hard on the farm (her thick arms were testament to just _how_ hard) but she was certainly out of practice to say the least. Nevertheless, she managed a hard toss at Alex, who caught it easily.

“Not bad,” he crowed. “Move out more!”

After they’d connected on a dozen more throws (Pepper threw wide a few times and fumbled the ball only once), Alex motioned her back in and plopped down in the sand for a rest.

“You’re pretty good,” he said (his smile was something else, so honest and wide). “I can’t believe they wouldn’t let you play.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Pepper replied, taking a seat beside him. It had been a big deal a few years ago, when a handful of adults had told a young girl that yes, she was good enough to make the team, but no, they didn’t want her to play. It would “take the focus away from the game” if there was a girl on the field, the adults had told her; it would be “a gimmick” one of them had added.

“It would be for me,” he said, leaning his weight back on his hands and looking off into the blue horizon. The clouds were sparse but cottony, far away and bright white. “I’m gonna be the first professional gridball player from Stardew Valley. There’s no doubt in my mind,” he said. 

And she felt that conviction biting in his words, as if there was more behind them than just confidence.

“I already led my team to the regional playoffs. I just need to keep training so I can get a spot on the Tunnellers,” he added. “It’ll happen, just wait.”

“I believe you,” she said without thinking. And she did. The only reason she’d succeeded in the valley was because of determination. If he really believed in himself, who was she to cast any doubt on his dreams? And even if they _were_ just dreams, he deserved the chance to try for them.

He cast his eyes back on her, and he softened, just a little. “Thanks, Pepper. I’ll remember that.”

They sat for a while longer in the sand, talking about their favorite Tunnellers moments from the last season, their high school teams, favorite players, and on and on until Alex said that he had to get back home. He held out a hand to help her stand from the beach, shifted his weight once or twice as he thought of something to say.

“It was nice, today,” he said finally.

“Really nice,” Pepper added, hating her choice of words the moment she’d used them. She sounded so much smarter when she wasn’t talking to Alex. But then, he didn’t seem to mind, and he gave her a wave as he left for town.

+++

It was a Wednesday. Not her normal day in the saloon, but she’d started appearing almost every night over the last week. Only for an hour, maybe two at the most, at a time. She took a spot in the corner, near the fireplace, where she formed a neat triangle with Emily behind the bar and Shane sitting beside her.

And when Emily would flit away for bar business, it left just the two of them. They didn’t talk much, almost like they didn’t need to. Pepper could feel that it was just the way Shane liked it.

“So it’s Jas’s birthday tomorrow,” Pepper said, waving at Mayor Lewis as he walked in.

Shane almost snorted his beer out through his nose, swallowed, and started to laugh. “Shit. I almost forgot.”

“No, you didn’t,” Pepper chided him. “You told me yesterday.”

“What was yesterday?”

“Tuesday,” Pepper sighed (she was getting used to him; that one was sarcastic).

“It all kind of turns into a gray blur after a while, I guess,” he muttered, and he supplied himself with another sip of his beer. “So, it’s her birthday tomorrow, and…?”

“I was just… going to ask what she likes.” Pepper ordered another drink for herself (she hadn’t ordered one for Shane, not since she’d found him the way she did; she got horrible flashbacks every time she saw him taking a drink). But he didn’t say anything. He must have seen the contemplative look on Pepper’s face, and he nodded to let her start again. “She told me that Marnie’s not her aunt.”

Shane wasn’t looking at her, again. Sometimes, he’d find a very important spot on the floor and focus all his attention on it. 

“She’s my goddaughter,” Shane said, and he finished off the rest of his drink in one go. 

Pepper didn’t think that she’d ever met an honest-to-Yoba godfather. Not a practicing one, anyway. She wanted to press in with questions (who are her parents? Where are they? Why do you live with your aunt?), but he had that look in his eyes again. That dark, quiet look she’d come to recognize as a bookend to a conversation. She sighed, shoulders deflating.

“I didn’t know that.” She shifted on the stool, turned more toward him. “Are you… actually related?”

He shook his head. “I was… I knew her parents. She likes ice cream.” He stood off his stool, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. “She likes _you_ , too,” he added, clearing his throat.

He was doing a very bad job of ignoring the silly grin on her face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Shane,” Pepper said as he paid and moved to leave.

“Yeah.” He scrubbed at the hair at the back of his neck, looked like he might say something else, but turned and left instead.

+++

Jas’s birthday was a subdued affair. Pepper saw Vincent playing with the birthday girl outside Marnie’s ranch, both of them covered in dirt and grass stains. Penny was watching them, and she waved politely when she saw Pepper pass by. Inside the house, Marnie hugged Pepper when she entered, though she noticed Pepper seemed to be looking for someone else.

“Jas is outside,” Marnie said, letting Pepper out of her warm embrace. 

“Shane?” Pepper asked.

There was a small, strange look in Marnie’s eye, but it passed quickly into a smile. “He couldn’t get the day off of work.” She deflated slightly. “He says he’ll be able to spend the whole weekend with her, though. I just hope he keeps that promise.”

“Hey, Peps!” came Sam’s voice from Marnie’s kitchen.

“Sam!” Pepper echoed his enthusiasm, and they made quick work of a tight hug. “Did you bring Vincent for the party?”

“Yeah,” he said, stuffing a brick of carrot cake into his mouth. “An’ Marnie’s a goo’ cook, too,” he mumbled around the food.

Pepper brought enough ice cream for a village. Jas hugged her harder than Pepper thought a little girl should be able to. They sang for her, and Pepper stayed long enough for Jas to open all of her presents. She finally looked like a little girl, Pepper thought; finally had the chance to act like a kid. 

Shane shouldered his way through the front door somewhere around seven; the sun was dipping lower, but still throwing a rectangle of mellow orange light on the floorboards around him. He still had his Joja hat stuffed on his hair haphazardly, and was trying to make his way in while carrying a small stack of boxes. He huffed his way through the doorway, more sweaty than he probably should have been for the job.

Jas looked up from her cake with a shining look in her eye, and she leapt at him from her chair.

“Woah!” he cried, almost tipping over when Jas latched onto his middle. “Hey, you’re gonna knock me over.”

He took Pepper up on the offer to take some of the boxes from his hands, and he leaned down to ruffle Jas’s hair.

“Happy birthday, squirt,” he murmured. “Sorry I couldn’t get home sooner.”

“What did you get me?” she squealed, hopping with excitement.

“Uh,” he started, ignoring the glowing look on Pepper’s face. “Well, I can’t really afford… I hope you like it, anyway.”

They were a few fairly generic dolls (they must have been Joja brand, by the obnoxious blue packaging), and he obviously hadn’t had the time to wrap anything, but Jas seemed happy enough to just sit with her godfather and come up with names and occupations for her new toys.

Marnie looked too happy for words.

After the guests had left and the decorations had been put away, after Shane had put the birthday girl to bed, he returned to the kitchen to find Pepper helping Marnie store the last of the leftovers. He waited until Marnie had gone to the fridge before sidling up beside Pepper at the table. She looked up, smirking, and playfully snatched the Joja hat off of his head. A look of embarrassment that he’d still even been wearing it flashed in his eyes.

He took the hat back from her hands, fiddling with a spot on the brim. “It’s not too late for a drink at Gus’s, is it?” Shane asked her.

She opened her mouth, and paused there for a moment. It wasn’t a good idea. Something in her didn’t want to encourage him to drink more than he already was. 

“It is for me, I think,” she said.

“Right,” he said quickly. “Yeah. Time to get back to your farm, then, I guess.”

“I think it was sweet,” Pepper said, dashing through the disappointment she could feel seeping into the conversation. “Your presents, I mean.”

He scratched aimlessly at the hair at his temple, looking very hard at his hat. “I wish I could get her something she really likes, you know?”

“I’m pretty sure she liked it just fine,” she said, thumping her fist carefully into his shoulder with a grin. “Goodnight, Marnie,” she called to the woman across the kitchen. Then she lowered her voice and added, “Goodnight, Shane.”

“’Night,” he said to her back.


	9. solarion chronicles

“Hey, Pepper,” Sebastian said, looking up from the cards he was shuffling.

Sam jumped, almost fell out of his chair. “Hey, Peps, what’s up?” he asked after he’d collected himself.

“Just stopping by,” she said. She briefly glimpsed the layout on Sebastian’s table. It looked like some sort of board game. “What are you guys up to?”

“Sam and I were just about to play Solarion Chronicles: The Game.” Sebastian stopped midway through cutting the deck, like he’d just had an idea. “Why don’t you play with us? It’s better with three people, anyway.”

“Is it hard to learn?” Pepper asked, already heading for the empty chair.

Sam shook his head. “If I can play it, you can.”

“Okay, let me draw the scenario.” He pulled the top card from the freshly-shuffled deck and took a moment to read it. “This scenario will take us into the Necromancer’s Tower to try and reclaim the Solarion Staff from the clutches of Dreadlord Xarth.”

Pepper tried her hardest not to chuckle. She’d known these two for her entire stay in Stardew Valley, and she’d never even have guessed that they were actually _huge nerds_. She cleared her throat and nodded for Sebastian to continue.

“I want to be—” Sam cut in, but Sebastian shut him down by holding a hand up in front of him.

“It’s Pepper’s first game, so she gets to choose her character first.” Sebastian held out three cards to her. She flashed Sam a sorry look, then glanced through her options.

“I think I’ll be the healer?” she said, though unsure. She _did_ know that she liked helping people more than swinging swords around (although she did do quite a lot of that, sometimes).

Sebastian nodded again. “That’s a good choice, the healer’s a very important role. I’ll be the wizard, then.”

“Cool,” Sam exclaimed, “the warrior’s my favorite, anyway.”

Sebastian read from the scenario card, describing a fantastical setting where the companions they’d chosen had set out to finish the quest he’d already laid out for them. Pepper leaned on her hand and listened, her smile crawling slowly wider on her face. 

“Pepper,” he said, and when he looked up from the cards to see her staring, his brow furrowed for a moment. “You’re the first to the tower’s entrance. What do you do?”

She blinked, a little shocked at being put on the spot. “What do _I_ do?”

“You gotta play your character, Peps,” Sam said. “Like, if it was my guy—the warrior—I’d totally rush in the front. Fortune favors the bold, right?”

“Do you take the warrior’s advice?” Sebastian asked.

Pepper scrutinized her character card. “I don’t know. Obviously, our characters are friends, but I think she would want to sneak around and look for a back entrance.”

“The wizard agrees,” Sebastian said.

He expertly described the passage of the tower, lowering his voice for suspense and shouting when a skeleton suddenly leapt at them. Sam went in swinging, and Sebastian backed him up from the back lines. Pepper aided with her healing spells after they’d beaten the creature. The tower itself was like a maze, and it was Pepper who suggested they draw it out on a piece of scrap paper as they went (the was an appreciative look in Sebastian’s eye when she did).

“You’ve finally arrived at the chambers of Dreadlord Xarth,” Sebastian said when they’d entered a new room.

“How do we know, does he have a sign on his door, or something?” Sam asked, snickering. Pepper gave him a look, and he nodded, turning into stoic, Serious Sam. “I kick the door down!” he announced.

Sebastian smirked, and when he spoke again, his voice was completely different—dark and deep, almost like it wasn’t his at all. “Intruders?” he shouted in a voice that must have been Dreadlord Xarth’s. “How dare you trespass in my private chambers!”

Sam giggled again, and Pepper elbowed him this time.

“So, you’ve come for the Solarion Staff? FOOLS!” Sebastian’s voice boomed, and even Pepper was grinning. “You’ll make an excellent addition to my skeleton army!”

“I rush him!” Sam declared, slamming a fist on the table and knocking over several miniatures. 

“I get out of the way,” Pepper added. Surely a dark necromancer was nothing for her, a mere healer, to deal with head on.

“Dreadlord Xarth casts a shadow beam,” Sebastian said, and he rolled a die. “It hits Sam and my wizard, but Pepper’s clever thinking causes him to miss her.” He leveled a serious gaze across the table at her. “You have time to cast one healing spell before his next round.”

“Me!” Sam called, waving his arm around his head like he wasn’t sitting right next to her. “Peps, I can get him!”

“No, I heal the wizard,” Pepper said after only a second of thought. “Magic against magic.”

“Aw,” Sam groaned.

“Thanks,” Sebastian replied, though whether he was speaking as Seb or the wizard, she wasn’t sure. “I cast Pure Light on the dark wizard.” He rolled another die, and a victorious smile took his face. “The Dreadlord Xarth screams and crumbles into dust!”

He let out a long sigh, like he’d been holding his breath. And Pepper saw a different Sebastian in that moment. Maybe the _real_ one. No more pinched features, or gloomy hunch to his shoulders, no exasperated sigh or dull, one-note one-line answers. He looked happy. 

“I present the Solarion Staff to you,” he said, miming the action in real life. “Order is restored to the world.”

“ _Hello_ , dead warrior over here,” Sam said dramatically, hand over his eyes. Pepper laughed first and hardest, but Sebastian joined them, smiling softly.

+++

It was raining hard when Pepper woke up, and thunder shook the roof over her head—close and loud. Flashes of lightning threw shadows in the kitchen while she made her breakfast, and for some time she just sat and listened. Living in the city, she never knew just how much she loved the rain. Wet asphalt just didn’t have the same wonderful smell as mud and grass and mossy trees.

Farm work was still easier in the rain, and once she’d checked the hens and given them plenty of food, Pepper decided that she should venture back into the mines while she still had the time. She hadn’t ventured too deep into the dim caverns, but if she hadn’t been sure about the existence of monsters and magic before she’d met M. Rasmodius, Professional Wizard, she definitely would have been a believer after an hour in the mines. She was lucky that she’d run into Marlon of the Adventurer’s Guild and armed herself. 

Hours of climbing and swinging her sword later, Pepper realized the hour. She would barely have enough time to stop by the saloon to check in with Emily and Gus before they closed if she started back now. She grimaced at the state of her clothes—how hard would it be to scrub blue slime out of her pants?

She almost ran face-first into Shane in the doorway of the saloon.

He looked positively panicked. Part of that may have had something to do with whatever he’d had to drink that night (and, considering how late it was, he’d probably seen himself to the bottom of six or eight pints), but it was mixed with pale shock and red embarrassment. 

“Hi, Shane,” Pepper said blankly, searching for anything more intelligent but not finding it with Shane close and staring her down, immovable. 

“There she is!” Gus’s loud voice carried from inside. “See, nothing to worry about, Shane!”

It turned out that it _was_ possible for Shane’s face to go even whiter.

“Were you _worried_ about me, Shane?” Pepper asked, the smile on her face splitting wide without warning, so much that it hurt.

And then he _blushed_. He tried to wave it off, looking somewhere off in the near distance over Pepper’s shoulder. 

“No,” he obviously lied, and loudly. “No, you just… you always bother me after work. Just making sure you’re on schedule, or whatever.”

“Well, now I’ll check in with you whenever I go into the mines, okay?” she laughed (why did it hurt so much to laugh?).

“Shut up,” he grumbled, fumbling to move past her without touching her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Shane,” she called after him.

“Yeah,” he replied without turning to look at her, but he held his hand over his head in a final salute. “Yeah, yeah…”

“He got all fidgety when you didn’t come in at seven, when you usually do,” Emily said, pouring Pepper the last pint before close. “He even asked if I knew where you were,” she added, giggling. “The longer you were gone, the more irritated he was. He said something about you falling down a hole and breaking your ankle, once.” Emily shrugged. “I told him I thought that you could take care of yourself.”

Gus was still laughing about it when Pepper left with Emily.

“I’m so glad that Shane has another friend in town,” Emily said, threading her arm into the crook of Pepper’s elbow. “Sometimes I worry, you know.”

Pepper smiled down at her and squeezed her arm. “Me too.” Of course, she hadn’t told anyone else about that day she’d spent at Marnie’s ranch, sobering Shane up. She’d make sure that no one ever knew.

“I feel like he tries so hard to isolate himself, sometimes,” Emily continued, and her normally perky face drooped down dramatically into a frown. “He’s nice, once he opens up. But I think that he’s afraid to.”

Pepper didn’t say anything to that, and when she got Emily to her front door, she didn’t say anything again.

“Goodnight, Pepper,” Emily prompted, smiling up at her.

Pepper sucked in a breath (why did she suddenly feel like she was frozen in place?), and when she still couldn’t move, Emily giggled. 

“Do you believe in destiny, Pepper?’ she asked very frankly.

“I…” Pepper began, feeling the ice freezing her to the spot beginning to melt. “I don’t know if I’ve ever thought about it.”

“I do,” Emily said, and she took one of Pepper’s hand in both of hers. “I feel like you were destined to come to Stardew Valley, and we were meant to be friends. I feel like destiny has something very important planned for you.”

When she couldn’t think of anything important or cool enough to say to that, Pepper broke into a line of embarrassed giggles, red to her ears.

“Goodnight, Emily,” she said in reply.


	10. luau

Pierre was acting a little stranger than usual. Granted, it was hard to get the man to talk about anything other than his shop, so strange was a bit subjective. He was shuffling around in some boxes behind the counter when she came in through the front door, and he hadn’t appeared when she came peering over the register at him.

She was about to ask if he needed any help when he flashed a big bouquet of flowers from behind the counter, smiling from around the back of the blossoms. “Hi there, Farmer Pepper! I heard Abby talking the other day, and I just wanted to take the time to remind you that the best way to say ‘I’m interested in you!’ is a bouquet of beautiful flowers from Pierre’s!”

Pepper’s mouth was open for longer than she realized. “Thank you, Pierre,” she managed to say. Heard Abigail talking? Talking about what? About who? “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“He showed you the flowers, didn’t he?” Abigail asked, her voice muffled from where she was hiding it in her hands. “I’m _so_ sorry, Pepper. But he asked me about my friends at dinner last night and I kinda let it slip that you’re into Emily.”

Pepper was too shocked to speak. Like Abigail’s words had reached out and grabbed her vocal cords, strangling them. When she managed to utter the smallest, strangest noise she could muster, Abigail finally looked up and saw Pepper’s white face.

“Pepper? What’s wrong?”

“I’m—” Pepper choked, and tried again. “I’m into Emily?”

Abigail burst into laughter. 

“Pepper, you’re so oblivious sometimes,” she said with a sad shake of her head. “Even about yourself, I guess.” She snapped her fingers once, and crowded in on Pepper confidentially. “Here, the Luau is coming up soon. We’ll help set you up, me and the guys!”

“You really don’t have—”

“This way you won’t have to buy any of those flowers from my dad. Trust me, Emily loves the Luau.”

The four of them gathered at the farmhouse on the hazy afternoon before the Luau. Pepper would emerge from her room in a new outfit, and Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail would offer their input. And the cycle continued for nearly an hour.

“How do you have so many outfits?” Sam asked, raising his voice to be heard through her bedroom door. “I have like, two pairs of pants. Tops.”

“So far I like the tunic the best,” Abigail thought out loud, tapping her pencil to paper. She’d been taking notes. “But what would _Emily_ like?”

“I thought she liked Alex,” Sebastian said, leaning over to look at the doodles Abigail had put in the margins.

“I thought she liked _me!_ ” Sam laughed.

“I do like you, Sam,” Pepper’s grinning face said from the slit she’d opened in her door. Sam gave a surprised whoop, and laughed off the redness spreading up his neck and into his face. Sebastian fixed him with a look, his shoulders shaking with hidden laughter.

“Guys!” Abigail snapped, tapping the top of Sebastian’s head with her note paper. “Focus!”

“Right!” Sam snapped to attention. “Operation: Get Peps a Date!”

+++

They had all unanimously decided on Pepper’s outfit (all except for Pepper, who was very embarrassed to be wearing the shorts that felt very, very short at mid-thigh and showed off much more of her thick legs than she really wanted, but Abigail had been so supportive). She was all but bare, she thought, in a floral tank top and those short olive-green shorts; but, then again, it _was_ very hot out and there were no clouds in the baby blue sky.

Nearly the whole town was out on the beach when the four of them arrived as a unit on the day of the Luau. Mayor Lewis had really gone all out on the decorations, even laid down a temporary dance floor on the far side of the beach—along with a booming sound system. Four huge tables were laid out with a feast, Gus fastidiously tending to his dishes and shooing flies away from them. And in the middle of those tables was a huge pot sitting over a crackling fire. 

Marnie was already there, stirring the delectable-smelling concoction.

“Miss Pepper,” she said, smiling. “Sam, Sebastian, Abigail. Did your four bring anything for the community soup? Now’s the time to add to it, the temperature is perfect.”

They had actually planned for this, even filling Pepper in on the role of the soup in their community (and how Sam hadn’t been allowed near the pot for two years), and so Pepper produced the basket with all of their offerings.

Pepper’s was the heart of an artichoke she’d grown out of the seeds she’d found on her farm—she had thrown a whole handful of the mystery seeds into a plot and watched the strange assortment grow. She still wasn’t a good enough farmer to be able to tell, just by looking, what seed would give her what produce. But she hoped that everyone liked artichoke, anyway.

Her trio of friends had gathered on the wet sand near the pier, Sebastian carefully blowing his cigarette smoke away from their faces, Sam playing in the waves while trying to hold a conversation and failing to combine the tasks very well, and Abigail trying very hard to keep them focused.

Pepper was _so lucky_ , she thought. She’d managed to find the closest friends of her lifetime in this valley, people who went out of their way to help her (something she’d normally done for others, but outside of this place, she’d rarely had done for her). The warmth in her chest was enough to make her just a little more confident about the outfit her friends had helped her pick.

It helped that no one was staring at her (like they had in the dress in the spring that felt like a hundred years ago). Well, no one except Shane, who did a very good job of pretending that he hadn’t been staring. She got it—it was weird, seeing someone you’re used to seeing in a certain way every day look so drastically different.

“Hi, Shane,” Pepper said, coming up alongside him and taking a chip from the basket he was hovering by.

“Hey, Pepper,” he answered, and immediately held up a bowl of sauce. “Try this green stuff. It’s hot,” he warned after just a moment.

“Good,” she said with a grin, scooping some of the proffered sauce onto her chip and stuffing it in her mouth. “Oh my gosh,” she gasped after she’d forced it down. “You’re not kidding.”

He was laughing at her. “Yeah, they don’t make hot pepper chutney like this is Zuzu City, I bet.”

“You bet right,” she managed around a swelling tongue. Gus, ever astute, saw the struggle and brought her some punch to wash it down with.

“I hope you liked it, at least,” Gus chuckled, slapping her shoulder after she’d finished chugging her drink.

“Loved it,” she choked. After Gus had wandered back to the other tables (using his arms to ward off the sand flies like he was some mother bird protecting his eggs), Pepper leaned heavily on the table. Shane was still laughing quietly to himself, scooping up the green stuff and eating it without any indication of how hot it was, like he was some sort of superhero invulnerable to heat. 

“So, what did you add to the soup?” Pepper asked once she’d regained normal speech.

Shane gave her a strange little look, to which she added her own strange little look right back.

“What?” she asked, and he shrugged and returned to staring at his food.

“I’m just surprised you’re really interested in talking to me, I guess,” he muttered. “When you’re not obligated to.”

“I’m not… _obligated_ to talk to you,” she cut in with a little laugh. “You’re my _friend_ , Shane, whether you like it or not.”

He laughed, something it seemed like he was still getting used to.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Abigail waving both arms over her head. Emily had arrived, she saw, and was already cutting quite the rug by herself on the dance floor.

“Shane,” she said to get his attention, and he turned while licking the extra green stuff off of one of his fingers. “You should come hang out with us. Over there,” she added, waving an arm at the trio (who were _all_ now trying in different ways to get her attention).

“What, all those kids you sit with at the saloon on Fridays?” Shane asked, eyeing her friends with the look he’d usually saved for her when they’d first met (hostile, untrusting, grumpy).

Pepper cocked her head at him, taking a breath to start her answer, then failing. It broke into a laugh, and he finally looked at her. 

“You know we’re all pretty much the same age, right?” she asked.

He obviously did not, considering the way his face dropped. He almost looked horrified. It certainly didn’t help when she continued laughing. 

“It’s okay,” she told him. “You don’t have to be seen with a bunch of _kids_.” She shoved off of the table and started her trek to her not-so-subtle friends.

“Pepper,” he urgently said after her.

“I said it’s fine,” she replied, twirling to face him to flash a double thumbs up. “I hope you like the soup!”

“You got this,” Sam urged, mussing her hair like a father encouraging a child. “Just be, like, smooth.”

“Not too smooth,” Abigail added. “Don’t be _weird_ smooth.”

“Just be yourself,” Sebastian said over them. “If she doesn’t like that, she’s stupid.”

He averted his eyes quickly when Pepper’s soft smile spread over her face on his behalf. Sam clapped her on the back, Abigail fixed the hair Sam had ruffled, and Pepper straightened her back. She was going to hit on Emily. Why did it feel like she was marching into battle?

Emily wasn’t the only one on the dance floor now (Robin and Demetrius were dancing closely to the energetic beat in the far corner), but she was sure acting like it. She was dancing like no one was watching, let alone existing on the same plane. Pepper somehow knew better than to try and interrupt. So she took a seat on the sand just off the dance floor, watching and smiling softly.

When the song ended, Emily laughed brightly, shaking her limbs out and taking a few deep breaths. Pepper stood, wiping the sand off of her legs and trying to look like she hadn’t been watching.

“Wow,” Emily breathed, grinning so much that it looked painful. “Hi, Pepper! Are you having fun?”

Pepper blanched, realizing she didn’t know what to say. So she blurted: “Not as much as you are.”

Thankfully, Emily laughed again. “Well, come on, then!” 

She held out a hand just as the next song began pumping through the speakers. It was a heavy beat, but bouncing, happy guitar backing it up. Pepper felt the beat thumping hard in her chest (or maybe it was her heart), but she took Emily’s hand.

When they bounced and spun together to the music, Pepper could just see Sam victoriously punching the air out of the corner of her eye.

They were both hot and sweaty when they decided they’d worn themselves out. But they were still latched together, and neither seemed like they minded the idea. 

“I like you,” Pepper said quickly (feeling the words burn as they came up, spreading out over her face like a wildfire).

Emily grinned up at her, but it was softer than normal. “I like you too, Pepper.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Pepper said all in a rush, breathing out like she’d been holding it in all through their dance. “I was… Well, I… didn’t know if you would…”

Emily held up a finger to thankfully stop her rambling. “You don’t have to worry about that,” she said, and then slid their hands together. Her face brightened even more. “Let’s have some soup; I added my own homemade quinoa.”

The governor eventually showed, eventually had a taste of the community soup, eventually said it wasn’t bad, and they eventually packed everything up and called it a day. But between those eventuallies, Pepper and Emily sat at a far end of the table and talked in quiet, personal tones, learning how their hands felt when they were together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh no, they're all cute...


	11. Sam's birthday

Shane was absolutely moping.

It was almost as bad as when she’d first met him. Not quite as bad—he didn’t insult her or tell her to go fly up someone else’s butt (not his _exact_ words, but Pepper didn’t really like to repeat them). But when she sat with him in the corner of the saloon after a long day of farming, he barely spoke (even less than usual).

“Hey Shane,” she said early one morning, catching up with him before he got to work.

“What?” he snipped, a little too harsh (and he realized it, easing back off with a sigh). “What do you want, Pepper?”

“I’m throwing a party for Sam tomorrow,” she said. “For his birthday.”

“One of the _kids_ ,” he said, rolling his eyes (but this time as a joke).

“Well, a couple of us _kids_ are getting together at the farm around noon.” She thumped him in the shoulder with her fist. “You should come.”

He didn’t answer right away, rubbing absently at his shoulder (she hadn’t punched him _that_ hard).

“Uh,” he grumbled. “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you change your mind, you know where I’ll be.” She paused, then rested her hand on that shoulder. “Have a good day, okay?”

She had taken five steps away, when she heard a long sigh from the man behind her. Not his usual exasperated sigh, or when he was bored or he’d had a long day. That sigh hurt, for some reason. She turned, but he was already off on his way to JojaMart.

+++

She’d thrown ribbons all over her furniture like streamers. She’d filled a basket full of tulips (which she was sure Sam wasn’t allergic to; she’d asked several times) and put it on the kitchen table. But the centerpiece was the chocolate cake. She’d got the recipe from Granny Evelyn, and the two of them had slaved over the cake for hours to get it just right.

“He’s my best friend,” Pepper admitted to Evelyn, shocked that she’d said it in a moment of candor. “That’s mean to say,” she murmured.

“Nonsense,” Evelyn told her, patting her shoulder. “You can have as many friends as you’d like, but you are allowed to choose a favorite. There’s no harm in that, Pepper.”

She smiled in return, and realized that it was true. Sam was her first friend in the valley, and her best and strongest. She could tell him anything, and even if he laughed at her, she knew that it would never hurt her—because she could laugh at him just as hard, and they _knew_ that, and it made them stronger together.

Sebastian arrived right at noon, took a look around at the empty house, and he smiled. “It’s very nice.”

Pepper flushed, and mumbled something about trying to keep it up. He helped her with the remaining set-up for the party. Three minutes later, Abigail arrived, holding her present and thanking Sebastian for holding the door for her.

“He’s always late to everything,” she sighed, but she was smiling. “He’ll be late for his own concerts.”

“Did you know Abigail knows the drums?” Sebastian asked Pepper, and the girl in question went from pale to bright red, and she hissed at Sebastian in undertones that Pepper was too busy giggling over to hear.

The man of the hour appeared half an hour late to his own party, grinning and sweaty from the hike. He hugged Pepper generously when he walked in, squeezing her for all he was worth.

“I invited Penny,” Pepper said, handing over her present, “but she said that she couldn’t make it.”

“Okay, I danced with her _once_ ,” Sam lamented. “Am I ever gonna live this down?”

“Sam and Penny, sitting in a—” Abigail began, but at the withering look from Sebastian, she instead broke into a line of giggles.

“I, um,” Pepper said amidst the laughter. “I also invited Shane?”

“Really?” Sam asked, and then held both hands up in defense before he needed it. “I mean, it’s your party. I just don’t know if he’d show.”

Pepper shrugged, and that was the end of that line of thought.

Sam had opened most of his presents (it was mostly food, the boy loved to eat) when there was a knock at Pepper’s door. She told them to go on and keep opening without her.

Shane was standing in her doorway, trying very hard not to look at her (because she was beaming sunshine from her face, and he was trying not to look directly at the light). 

“I didn’t know what the kid likes, so…” Shane began, and he held up something in a JojaMart bag in one hand. A six pack was in the other hand.

Pepper faltered for a moment, then stepped aside. He moved into her house, lingering for a moment beside her, and he dropped another long sigh.

“Want a drink?” he asked her. He didn’t have his Joja hat on, but he had that weary expression that he saved for the bar after a long shift.

She let loose a sigh of her own. It _was_ good to see him, after all. “Okay,” she relented. 

The trio weren’t exactly sure how to react to Shane’s appearance, but they took it in stride. Sam even clapped him on the back. They gathered around the table in Pepper’s kitchen, almost everyone had a seat. Pepper took the one beside Shane, sliding one of his beers over the table at him from the six pack she’d put in the fridge. He even almost smiled at her. Abigail and Sebastian exchanged a look. 

“So one time,” Sam began, digging into the chocolate cake (“Peps! This is the best cake I have _ever had_!”), “they had Shane working in the deli.”

Shane pinched the bridge of his nose.

“And he’s just so fed up that he starts putting labels on the ham that say ‘mystery meat’. He _hates_ working the deli, and he’s putting price labels on the meat slicer…”

Pepper was giggling, most of the way through the first beer Shane had given her.

“Sam,” Shane cut in, and suddenly everything was quiet. “No one wants to hear about that shit.”

When no one said anything, when no one laughed, when no one even coughed, Shane started to blanch. Pepper started to say something (anything to break the silence), but Shane stood from his chair and started toward the door.

“Shane, hey,” Pepper started (if her friends said anything, she didn’t hear it). But he didn’t halt. He kept walking through the front door and out into her pastures, where the buzzing of the summer insects was louder than the silence had been inside.

“Shane, come on!” she called after him. “Talk to me! _Stop!_ ” Pepper froze, shocked at herself. She’d actually shouted at someone. Actually raised her voice and yelled, and she was _angry_. She didn’t know if she’d ever been properly angry in her entire life.

And that same shock was all over Shane’s face. Any anger he’d had was gone and replaced with—was he hurt? It was exchanged just as quickly with that dark, stoic look he’d settled into on that day she’d found him on the floor of his room. Blank, empty.

“I’m sorry,” Pepper said quickly, holding both hands to her mouth.

“No,” Shane cut in sharply. “You’re right, I’m the asshole. I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea.” He waved her off harshly, turning away. “Sorry I ruined your party.”

“Shane—”

“Leave me alone!” he shouted back at her, and he visibly winced. But he didn’t stop walking, hiding behind the hard fist he’d shoved to his temple.

When she came back to her living room, the other three were silent, watching her.

“Sam, I’m so sorry,” Pepper wanted to say. And she’d started to, but she only managed to get halfway through before she choked on those words and buckled into a quiet sob. 

There wasn’t a second between that sad noise that had come out of her and the strong feeling of Sam’s arms squeezing her. She sniffled, and she lost her careful control, letting loose a line of whimpers, leaning hard into him.

“I’m going after him,” Sebastian said darkly, rising from the chair and stalking toward the door like a man on a mission. 

Abigail held him back with a hand on his shoulder, coming in close to say: “She needs us more than she needs that.”

So they all sat together on the floor of Pepper’s grandfather’s home. Sam holding Pepper, rubbing small circles on her back and letting her lean into his shoulder; Sebastian holding one of her hands in silence; Abigail trying to cheer all of them up with her stories.

It was late into the night before Pepper asked them to stay. And all of them agreed.

+++

Pepper went about her week as normal, but something was different. It seemed like everyone she spoke to had something to say about her demeanor, or the droop of her features.

She came into town early on a Monday to see Sam poking Shane hard in the shoulder, almost stooping in half to do so. In her shock, Pepper shuffled backward out of sight, but she could still hear everything.

“What the hell?” Shane growled at him.

“I said apologize to her,” Sam snapped back (it froze something in Pepper’s chest; she’d never heard Sam sound like that, serious and _angry_ ). 

“She doesn’t want to talk to me,” Shane told him, wrenching his shoulder away so Sam couldn’t poke it again. “She’s better off if she doesn’t.”

“I don’t know why she likes you,” Sam butted in, “but she does. She’s my friend, and you made her cry, so I’m gonna make you apologize!”

Shane didn’t say anything. And so Pepper peered around the corner where she’d hidden behind the fence. Shane looked like he’d been kicked in the gut, but she was sure that Sam hadn’t actually hit him—they were both far apart at this point.

“I’m…” Shane started.

“Don’t apologize to me,” Sam told him sternly, but his ire had faded away. He whipped a finger out to point behind him (directly at Pepper’s hiding place). “She’s still on the farm, go tell her you’re sorry. I’ll cover for you ‘til you show up at work, okay?”

Shane looked like he might say something, but Sam shut him up with a sharp shushing noise, and he flattened his Joja hat seriously onto his head and stalked past him. Shane lingered in the square. He pressed both of the heels of his hands into his eyes and growled out of frustration, completely sagging and defeated. 

He threaded one of his hands back through his hair, finding that very important spot on the ground and fixing it with a burning stare. And he sighed. And he started walking toward the farm.

Pepper rushed back home, feeling a little bit like an idiot. Sure, she could have just met him on the road there, but then he might have known she was listening, and that would make it even _more_ awkward than she knew it was already going to be. Steven looked up when she came back inside, even the cat looking at her like she was a little crazy.

Several minutes later, there was a knock on her door. Pepper tried to open it casually.

“Shane?” she asked (just a little surprised that he’d actually come).

“Hey, Pepper,” he said, not quite looking at her face (his eyes had made it up to her shoulder, at least that was something). He shuffled in place, and then he did look at her. “Can I come in? It’s okay if—”

“Please,” she said quickly before he could talk himself out of it.

They sat at her table, and she poured him a cup of coffee. 

“I’m…” he started once, looked a little bit like he hated whatever was going to come out of his mouth, and changed his mind. “I’m a jerk.”

When Pepper didn’t immediately say anything, he had to raise his eyes and look at her. And her face said everything. Because she was smiling at him. To avoid that stare, he scratched at the stubble under his chin and looked anywhere else.

“And I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, though her voice wasn’t as cheerful as usual.

“It’s not,” Shane replied, and paused for a sigh and a swig of coffee. “You’re a nice person and,” he shook his head, “I guess sometimes I just don’t understand why you’d want to be my friend.”

“So I _am_ your friend?” she asked, the smile growing brighter on her face.

He couldn’t help it. Not while he was looking at that smile. One broke over his face, even though it was small and a little sad in comparison. 

“Yeah, I guess so. Even if I still don’t get it.”

“Then apology accepted,” she said, reaching across the table to hold his wrist. He flinched, even if just for a second, and then his shoulders relaxed. _He_ relaxed, for maybe the first time since she’d met him. 

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” she prompted (still hadn’t let go of him).

He looked worried for just a moment, then relaxed again. “Sam… told me he’d cover for me for a while.”

A small, mischievous look grew in Pepper’s eye. “Want to come meet the hens, then?”

He brightened even more. “Sure, yeah.”

When Pepper saw Sam that evening on his way home from work, she almost bowled him over with a hug. He was very confused (by the strange, strangled noises coming out of his mouth), but he let it happen anyway.

“He did it, didn’t he?” Sam asked, ruffling Pepper’s hair.

“Yeah,” Pepper replied. 

“Good,” he preened, puffing out his chest a little under her face. “Maybe he’s not that huge of a jerk after all.”

“Sam,” she interrupted, “don’t tell anyone else, but you’re my best friend.”

“Pssh,” he laughed. “I knew that.”

She squeezed him even harder, burying her face in his shoulder and laughing with him, even when he tried to wriggle out of her grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love protective Sam. I will fight for him.


	12. moonlight jellies

Pepper was helping Emily with her garden. Even as small as it was, Emily had wanted a patch of her own to grow, and as it was, Pepper was the resident garden authority now. Emily leaned in and rubbed a smudge of dirt from Pepper’s cheek, grinning when Pepper blushed.

“Good morning, Shane!” Emily called when she saw him stalk by her house on his way to work.

He jumped and turned, relaxing once he saw the two of them. “Hey,” he said, waving with a small motion. He gave them a short pause, then cleared his throat. “So, uh, are the two of you…?”

“Are we what?” Emily asked naïvely.

“Dating, or something?” Shane coughed out, looking deeply uncomfortable and rubbing at one of his eyes.

“Yes!” Emily chipped in before Pepper could say what she was thinking (“uh… yeah? I think so?”). And she quickly turned to Pepper, an embarrassed flush to her face. “Oh! Unless we’re not.”

“No, I think we are,” Pepper said, more confident after Emily’s quick answer (she was pink in the face to match).

“Well, um,” Shane continued, “congratulations.”

“See you tonight!” Emily called, to which Shane nodded and waved absently, trudging away like he usually did.

“What’s happening tonight?” Pepper asked after he was gone, wiping the sweat from her brow and smearing more dirt there.

“Oh, Pepper, it’s the Dance of the Moonlight Jellies,” Emily cooed. “I forgot that you’d never seen it.” She sighed, closing her eyes, and Pepper watched with a slow, sideways smile. “It’s a symbol for the close of summer and the coming of fall. The jellies visit Stardew Valley on their journey to warmer waters, just for one night. It’s so magical.” Her eyes flew open, and idea forming in them. “Meet me here tonight at ten, we can walk to the beach together.”

She leaned in quickly and pressed a kiss to Pepper’s brow, moving away and humming something aloud. Pepper took a long moment to soak it all in, and to let the heat drain from her face.

+++

The air had taken on a chill when Pepper left her house that evening. The sky was dark but clear, and the moon was a faint curl of light low near the horizon. She’d pulled on a light coat, but even in the cool air, her face was full of warmth.

She hadn’t come here expecting to _date_ anyone. She’d hardly even hoped to make friends (though she’d dearly wished). Her life had been so changed by her move to the valley, and it was still changing.

Emily waved when she saw Pepper enter the town square, and she rushed up to her. Emily’s arms squeezed her, didn’t even fit all the way around her.

“Come on,” she urged, pulling at Pepper’s hand.

“Wait,” Pepper breathed, squeezing Emily’s hand but stopping them in their tracks. “Have you seen if Shane’s come by yet?”

Emily looked knowingly at Pepper. “No, he hasn’t. I’ll meet you at the beach.” She stood on her toes and kissed Pepper on the cheek, twirling away.

Pepper knocked on the door to Marnie’s ranch for the second time, peering in through the window. He had his light on, and was probably into a third beer and ignoring her.

“Shane,” she called through the door. “It’s me.”

The door opened almost comically fast. He was disheveled, a little more unshaven than usual, and he had half a beer in the hand that hadn’t wrenched the door open (he was breathing in a way to suggest he’d run quite a distance).

“Pepper,” he said in a way that was trying to sound casual but really wasn’t. “What are you doing here?”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other (why _was_ she here?).

“I don’t know,” she said finally. Then, as it occurred to her, she revealed: “I just… didn’t want you to be alone, tonight.” She held out a hand to him.

The breath that left him wasn’t a sigh, it was lighter than that. His eyebrows tilted up in a sad way, but his mouth fell into a smirk. And he set down his unfinished beer on the table, and he took her outstretched hand.

When the two of them came onto the beach together, Pepper inadvertently made a quiet noise of surprise. It was darker than it had ever been on the beach. They’d shut off all the lights on the pier, aside from a small, floating candle boat already on the water. There were shapes moving on the pier, and the quiet murmur of familiar voices carrying across the sand.

Emily rushed up out of the darkness and pulled both of them into a hard embrace.

“I’m so glad she got you to come,” she whispered to Shane, and though Pepper couldn’t see her face, she could tell that Emily was smiling from ear to ear.

Pepper felt Shane shrug against her, still trapped by Emily’s crushing arms. Emily told them that she’d go find them a spot by the water and was gone again.

“She’s…” Pepper began with a sigh.

“Something,” Shane finished for her. “Come on,” he added, taking a few steps from her, shoving his hands in his pockets, then making a half turn back until he was sure that she was coming after him.

Jas ran up to Shane once they were on the pier, squeezing him hard enough to pull a loud ‘oof’ from her godfather. He picked her up and bounced her onto his hip (and she giggled loudly, wrapping her arms around his neck).

“Shane,” came Marnie’s quiet, surprised voice. Surprised, but pleased. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“I was convinced,” he told her (Pepper could feel his eyes in the dark).

“Um,” Pepper said after a moment, and this time Shane was the one thumping his fist into her shoulder.

“It’s fine,” he said quietly to her. “Go on and sit with her. I’m alright with the squirt. And hey,” he added—and she saw in the dim light of the candle boat that he was actually smiling. “Thanks.”

She wasn’t sure why seeing him smiling, with his ragtag little family around him, made her so happy, made her chest hurt.

Emily was seated on the edge of the pier, looking out into the dark sea beyond them. Very faint, somewhere near the horizon, Pepper fancied that she could see a faint glow. Emily held a hand out, and Pepper took it as she came to sit beside her.

“Any minute now,” Emily whispered, encouraging closeness, “Mayor Lewis will let the candle boat loose, and the light will draw the jellies in. I’m so happy I can be here for your first dance, again.”

At first, she didn’t see anything. And then, slowly, spots of light and color rose from the black water below them. Pepper’s breath caught in her throat. Hundreds of them, dancing just under the undulating surface of the water, coloring the underside of the pier. The voices of those around gasped and whispered in awe; even the giggling of the children was subdued.

Pepper didn’t realize that she was crying until Emily leaned up to wipe the tears off of her face. Her own eyes were shining, looking up into Pepper’s face with a look of joy.

“Don’t worry,” she said quietly, just loud enough to hear over the sound of the waves, “I cried the first time, too.”

Pepper shook out a breath, and she leaned down and kissed her in a smooth movement. Emily’s hand rose from her side, keeping Pepper’s hand firm on her cheek, holding them together. And they stayed that way, moving their mouths together softly in the light of the moonlight jellies, until Pepper started to laugh.

Emily blinked up at her, face almost glowing itself in the night, but confused.

“Sorry,” Pepper said. “I should have asked…”

“It’s fine,” Emily told her. She kissed Pepper’s cheek tenderly. “It’s fine.”

They held their hands tightly together and sat on the pier until the jellies had passed into the dark night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed some fluff after last night, I hope it might cheer someone else up, too.


	13. the cliffs

The beginning of fall was blessed with a long spell of warm weather, and the cold snap didn’t kill off most of her summer plants until most of the way through her second week. Emily had come out to the farm a handful of times, mostly to bring Pepper cuttings of the flowers from her garden, but also to sit with Steven on the front porch and meditate in the mellow autumn sun.

They dyed their hair together in Pepper’s bathroom, and Emily made lunch in Pepper’s kitchen. Pepper fixed the leak under Emily’s sink, and even helped her sister Haley open up a particularly nasty jar of pickles. 

As autumn rolled into its second week, the nights turned colder, and the days more blustery, and Pepper felt the tingle of excitement in her blood. Fall was, and had always been, her favorite time of the year. Sometimes she said that it was because of all the sweaters she finally got to wear. Mostly, it was because the world turned the most beautiful shades, and the breeze rolled through the colorful leaves, kicking up the smells that reminded her of being a little girl.

Abigail was on her side, and the two spent more time outside together than before; Sam’s allergies weren’t acting up; and even Sebastian wasn’t as much of a shut-in as usual. Pepper would see Shane on her way through town in the morning, and depending on the day, he would either greet her with a grin and a wave, or a grumble and silence (better, of course, than hostility; she never got that anymore).

It was raining again. It was a cold rain. Pepper didn’t want to be out in this kind of rain, but she needed the firewood before it got truly cold and she couldn’t stand the bite of frost. It was nearing dark—a chilly, soggy twilight. She was far south of her own farm, but Marnie had told her that any wood she could harvest from the forest was as much hers as it was Marnie’s. There was plenty of growth that far from the ranch, and Pepper had no difficulty finding good wood to haul home.

She had started making the first cuts in a tree that was mostly dead (had probably been hit by lightning in the near past), when she heard something that wasn’t a frog or a bird. It sounded like a human voice. But no one lived this far into the forest—even the wizard had the good sense to keep to the edge of the wood.

She could have ignored it (maybe it was the wind, the creaking of old trees). But then, what if it really was someone? What if it was Jas or Vincent, lost and alone and afraid? Even if it was only one of Marnie’s cows that had wandered out too far, Pepper knew that if she didn’t investigate, it would bother her.

Leaving her tools and firewood by the old tree, Pepper picked her way through the undergrowth and toward the noise. She knew that she was nearing the edge of the forest, this far south, and it only led to two things: the strange old sewer grate, and the cliffs that overlooked the sea.

“Hello?” Pepper called.

She recognized the sound, now. Someone was crying. But when she’d called out, the voice had sniffled into nothing, and left Pepper to find her way to it on her own.

The sea breeze hit her coolly in the face when she reached the cliff’s edge, and the sound of waves crashing into the rock face overwhelmed the dripping of the rain. She saw who it was, now. It wasn’t Jas lost in the woods, or a cow, or even the wizard or his magical friends the Junimo.

It was Shane.

He was crouched at the edge of the cliff, legs dangling over, and holding his face in one of his hands, swaying uneasily. A half dozen empty cans littered the ground around him, and a whole second six pack sat beside him, one open and in his other hand. His shoulders were shaking hard, shivering or holding in whatever sad noises were edging out of his clenched mouth.

“Shane?” she breathed, and her voice was so unnatural in her mouth; small and afraid. He jerked like he’d been shocked, and Pepper took a rush of steps forward. But he steadied himself before she could get to him, turning to look at her.

He looked almost sick, eyes red and face and hair slick with rain. He looked like some sad child stuck in the eyes of a broken man.

“Pep… Pepper,” he hiccupped, his voice low and groggy and on the edge of tears and nausea. “I’m sorry.”

He scrubbed both of his hands through his hair, sticking it up while it was wet and grabbing two thick fists full. “My life…” he croaked. “It’s a _pathetic joke_. Look at me!” He threw his hands down at his side, wobbling again. 

Pepper didn’t get too close. But she came to her knees, on his level, staring at him (couldn’t believe her eyes).

“Why do I even _try_?” His voice went thin, and it finally broke, and he cried. He _sobbed_. Took a sharp, stuttering, choking breath. He clutched his arms around his middle and doubled over from the pain of it. But he couldn’t stop himself now—it was tumbling out of him as quickly as the tears rolling down his face with the rain. “I’m too small and stupid to… to take control of my life. I’m just a piece of garbage flittering in the wind.”

She wanted to say something (anything), but he teetered there on the edge of the cliff, looming, and his sobs quieted to a rumble (like thunder). He stared out into the sea, at the rocks down below, at his feet dangling there.

“I’ve been coming here a lot lately… looking down.” He breathed slow and hard, closing his eyes tight enough to buckle his forehead, sad and desperate. “I think ‘here’s a chance to finally take control of my life’.” He took another breath, almost retched, and broke into another fit of sobs. “But I’m too scared and anxious,” he interjected bitterly between his tears. “Just like…” And for just a second, he opened his eyes and he looked at her (eyes red and afraid and tired). “… like always.”

He hid his face in one of his hands again, and the unfinished beer slipped out of his other hand, tinkling off of the rocks before splashing into the waves. “Pepper…” he croaked piteously. “All I _do_ is work, and sleep, and drink to… to dull the feelings of self-hatred.” He wasn’t looking at her now. He was looking down. Following the line of that beer can, right into the foam and the waves and the rocks. 

“Why should I even go on?”

Pepper’s eyes burned from the sea-salt air, the rain streaming into her face; she didn’t even know whether she was crying or not. 

“Tell me,” he burbled awfully, leaning, stretching out toward the dark water like it was reaching back for him. “T-tell me why I shouldn’t just… just roll off this cliff right now.”

She took a breath, and it was anything but strong. What the hell was she supposed to say? She wasn’t qualified for this. How was she supposed to help? What was she supposed to _do_?

And then she took another breath. This one was more steady. He couldn’t be strong, not right now. So she would have to be.

“Shane.” Somehow, she’d managed to stop shaking. “I can’t tell you what to do. That’s your choice. But whatever you choose… I’m your friend. I’m here for you.”

She stretched out her arm, held out her hand for him. His eyes drifted from the water, followed the outline of her fingers, the slope of her arm up, and finally found her face. Another sob hitched up in his throat.

And he took her hand.

She tugged, and his shaky legs scrambled, and together, they moved away from the cliff. He couldn’t force himself to stand, but she didn’t care. Because she had him, had him in both of her arms, tight against her, digging fingers into his back and holding him. And he gripped her weakly back, face tucked into her shoulder and shaking.

“Pepper…” his muffled voice rumbled into her shoulder, and pause afterward felt like an eternity filled with his quiet, labored breathing. “I think you should take me to the hospital now.”

Pepper lugged Shane through the rain-slick forest in near dark, her tools forgotten. When she made it to Harvey’s clinic, she banged hard on the door for long, tense minutes. Her voice felt harsh in her tight, raw throat when she called for the doctor, and Shane was slumped useless against her when Harvey finally answered (in his pajamas and rubbing one of his eyes with a very confused expression on his face).

But, credit where it was due, Harvey didn’t need Pepper to say anything for him to spring instantly into Doctor Mode. He helped Pepper carry Shane into the clinic, laid him out on one of the cots, and between everything asked everything he might need to know as a doctor. Words spilled out of her mouth in fragments. After he got the information he needed from her, Harvey carefully ushered Pepper back out into the waiting room. And then he left her alone, with the buzzing of the fluorescent lights as her only companion.

She was numb and cold and shivering when she felt Harvey behind her (how long had he been gone?), slipping a soft, warm blanket around her shoulders. And she realized, watching his sad face as he took a knee beside her chair, that she was crying. The tears were hot on her cold face, and her shivering turned suddenly into full, harsh sobs. 

Harvey gripped her shoulder, letting her just get it all out. He even had a box of tissues for her. She could finally let it go, even through the embarrassed warmth spreading all over her face and neck. She cried for a long time.

“He’s okay?” Pepper asked at last (her voice was still weak and rough).

Harvey nodded. “I’ve pumped his stomach and got some fluids in him. He should be okay for now. It was lucky you found him, Pepper.” He stepped out of the waiting room for a moment (a long moment that Pepper spent lost and sad and pulling her blanket tight around her), and he returned with a steaming cup of coffee. She took it like she was lost at sea and the coffee was her life raft.

“That much alcohol does a number on the body,” Harvey said, tone confidential but not clinical or detached. “But from what you told me, I’m more worried about his mental health.”

Pepper nodded, clutching the coffee with both hands and watching the steam rise and curl instead of looking Harvey in the face.

“When he comes around, I’ll have a talk with him,” Harvey assured her. “I know an excellent counselor in Zuzu City.”

She still couldn’t focus. She was still standing on the edge of that cliff, watching him teeter on the edge, watching him break apart into pieces in front of her; his strong façade come completely undone. She couldn’t have known it was that bad, could she? Should she have noticed something? If she hadn’t missed something he’d said, picked up on a sign, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten to that point in the first place.

“Pepper,” Harvey said, and though he didn’t shout, it broke through her dark, cloudy ruminations like sunlight. She looked him in the face, and he squeezed her shoulder again. “Listen… life can be painful sometimes. But there’s always hope for a better future. You’ve got to believe in that.”

She sat up a little straighter, and the next breath that shivered out of her took most of those dark, swirling clouds with it. She tried a smile, and the movement almost hurt, like she’d forgotten how to use those muscles.

“I think I can try.”


	14. yoba help her

Somehow, she’d made it home.

It was still raining when she woke up. Part of her was convinced that everything had been some kind of horrible dream, that her fevered brain had made it all up. But the aching all over her body from carrying Shane through the forest (the man was not a featherweight, after all), from crying for what felt like hours— _that_ was real.

She didn’t want to leave her bed, not with Steven snuggled so close and the rain pelting harder with every minute she wasted under the sheets. Not with reality waiting out there for her, where someone she cared about was hurting more than she could help him. 

She stuffed a pillow over her head to block out the bad thoughts. She’d done everything she could have, Harvey said so. Still… Pepper tried to tell herself there was no way she could have known he was hurting that bad, that he’d gone out of his way to make sure that she (and everyone else) didn’t know.

Pepper found herself sniffling again. But she wiped her eyes, tried to fix her hair from its slumber-tossed mess, and started getting dressed. By the time she was ready to step out into the pastures, the rain had stopped almost completely.

The sun was rising, and her hens played in the puddles when she let them loose. She ducked inside the coop to collect the eggs, making slow work of her early chores. If it took all day, she didn’t care. 

When she stepped back outside, Shane was standing there, right beside her chicken coop. He raised his hand halfway in a wave.

“Hey.” His voice was still rough, still a little sad. His eyes dropped to the ground, and he opened his mouth to say something else.

Pepper didn’t let him. Not before she’d left her basket of eggs behind and to strode to him in a blink. She grabbed him hard, tugging him into a close, tight embrace. He made the smallest noise of surprise, and for a moment he was resistant and tense. And then he sighed (not a sad sigh, not by a long shot), and his shoulders dropped all of their tension, and he held her back.

“Pepper,” he said after probably the longest hug she’d ever had (and she realized this, letting go of him in an embarrassed little flourish—but they stayed close). “How do I even…? Look,” he finally said, with a long scrub at his hair. “I’m really sorry about what happened at the cliffs last night. That was… embarrassing.”

“I’m…” Pepper started, and he looked suddenly up at her when something stuck in her throat and turned her voice weak. “I’m just glad you’re still here.”

“Oh man,” he breathed, disbelief mixing with a defeated little laugh. “It was that serious? I can’t even really remember.”

“It was serious,” Pepper told him, but when he laughed, she smiled (even if it was a little weak for her normal fare).

And Shane appeared to become acutely aware of just how close he was standing, because he backed up a whole three steps before he started talking again. “Harvey told me about a colleague of his… She’s a therapist. I’m going to Zuzu City to see her this weekend.”

She let him have the silence after his confession, and he took it thankfully. When one of Pepper’s hens wandered up between them, Shane took a knee and carefully ran his fingers through her feathers. The hen clucked, pleased.

“I just wanted to…” he started again, and she could see the words that he’d had to swallow back into his throat. He was still staring at that chicken. “Thank you,” he exhaled at last, looking up at her. “For taking care of me.”

“Shane,” she said quietly.

“I’m gonna start taking things more seriously,” he said, cutting her off and standing. “I don’t want to be a burden on anyone.” And he dug into his pocket, pulling out his wallet.

“What are you doing?” Pepper asked, brows furrowing as she watched him count out his money.

“Harvey told me that you paid for the clinic bills for… for me.” His face was serious, but not harsh, when he held out a handful of money.

“I’m not taking your money,” Pepper told him (why was something hurting in her chest?).

“Pepper,” he stopped her. “I never want to owe you anything. Not after…” And he stopped himself there, like he was reliving the same moment on the edge of that cliff that she had this morning.

She forced something back down her throat (something trying to claw its way out; it had been there since last night and it wanted _out_ ). 

Shane pressed his money into her hand while she was trying to figure herself out. A look of relief passed over his face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Pepper,” he said.

“Yeah,” she answered after too long, after he was already gone.

+++

It was barely nine in the morning, and one of Marnie’s roosters was still crowing. Jas met Pepper at the door, and the girl’s welcoming smile turned into a bright flash of excitement and a too-tight hug in the doorway.

“Miss Pepper,” Marnie said from the kitchen, drying her hands from the dishes when she saw that they had company. “It’s good to see you. And—” she laughed, “your cake?”

“It’s for Jas,” Pepper said, unloading the two-tier pink cake on the kitchen table. “I heard from _someone_ that it’s her favorite.”

That someone had emerged from his room, a little groggy and still half asleep. Pepper looked up, saw him staring in a sleepy haze, and let a smile crawl onto her face.

“I came into a little extra money yesterday,” Pepper said, eyes on him, “and I thought she’d like this more than anything I’d want for myself.”

He thought she wasn’t looking, and that was when she saw it. He slumped against the door frame, running a hand back over his hair and looking at her like she’d both punched him in the stomach and given him a basket full of gold. Like he was hurting, but somehow still happy about it.

_She_ felt like she’d been punched in the stomach.

He wiped the look straight off his face when he saw that she was watching, blanched, turned, and occupied himself very loudly with pouring some coffee. Marnie gave him a surprised sideways glance, then gave the same look to Pepper.

Shane set his coffee mug down across the table from Pepper. And slid a second full mug to her.

Pepper couldn’t stop the spread of redness through her face and ears, all the way down to her fingertips. 

She was in love with Shane. 

Yoba help her.

+++

“I have to break up with Emily,” Pepper said suddenly.

Sam actually choked on and spit out his drink.

“What?!” Abigail vocalized for him (while he was rubbing his nose to get the soda bubbles out). “But we just got you together!”

“I think they got themselves together,” Sebastian told her, and while Abigail flushed and blustered an excuse, Seb leaned in toward Pepper. “What happened?” he asked her directly.

“She’s wonderful,” Pepper said easily. “She’s so sweet, and it’s been great, but…”

“But?” Sam prompted.

“I don’t love her,” Pepper admitted.

“That makes sense,” Sebastian said after a moment’s thought. “Better to end a relationship while you both still have good feelings about each other than drag it on because you feel like you have to.”

“But…” Abigail whined. “You’re so cute!”

“No, Seb’s right,” Sam said, puffing up like he was the one who suggested it. “Peps knows what’s best for her.”

She chuckled, and was already feeling better. Naturally, one bomb was enough to drop for one day. She couldn’t even imagine the look on Sam’s face if she told him… _anything_ that had happened over the last few days.

But then she stopped herself. He was her _best friend_. _They_ were her best friends. If she couldn’t tell them, if she couldn’t trust them with her heart, how could she give it to anyone else?

“It’s Shane,” she said very quietly.

Sam nearly pulled another spit-take. 

“ _What?!_ ” Sam croaked, pushing his soda away from him so he wouldn’t be tempted to take another swig before another dramatic revelation. “Hold on, Peps, just…” And his face went serious. “Guys, give us a sec?”

Abigail cocked her head at him, but wasn’t given time to ask for clarification; Sebastian took her by the arm and led her out into the main room of the saloon (they did a bad job of pretending not to listen in).

“Really?” Sam asked—not accusatory, but thin and a little worried.

She took a steadying breath, straightened up, and nodded. “Yeah. I really think so.”

He leaned his cheek hard on his hand, looking at her with pinched, concerned brows almost too animated to take seriously. “Like Sebster said, you really know what’s best for you. I guess.”

“You guess?” Pepper laughed.

“Well, you’re really important to me, Peps,” he said, adding a shrug to make it seem more cool and less heartfelt. “And I can totally beat him up, if he breaks your heart.”

“Thanks for looking out for me, big guy.”

He squeezed her extra hard on the way home that night, and gave her an exaggerated wink. He said it was for good luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pepper finally gets a clue. I love all of them so much.


	15. zuzu city

Emily opened her door, and she knew something was wrong. But she didn’t get upset, didn’t immediately ask what Pepper wanted from her so early. She invited Pepper in, and they sat together on her bed.

“I do like you, Emily. I like you a lot,” Pepper said, twisting her hands together in her lap.

“We’re breaking up,” Emily said for her. Her tone was not light, not her usual casual joyfulness—but it wasn’t harsh or bitter either. She sighed, a quick flash of sadness on her pretty face, and then reached across to take one of Pepper’s hands to keep her from rubbing them raw. “Pepper,” she said, and she closed her eyes. “I understand completely.”

“You do?” Pepper asked, wide eyes searching.

Emily nodded, humming in the affirmative. “I know that we were destined to meet, but I feel that destiny has something else planned for us on the road ahead.” Her eyes opened, and they were soft and kind. She took Pepper’s face in her hands. “You’re so sweet, Pepper. I’ll miss you, but I’m glad that we got to spend this time with each other.”

“I’m glad, too,” Pepper added, almost too quickly in order to say: “And I still want to be friends, if… if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Emily told her, smile easing back onto her face, though timidly. She paused, dropping her hands. “And you can talk to me about anything.”

Sometimes, Pepper wondered if Emily _was_ in tune with some forces that no one else could sense. Because Emily had a way of seeing right through her. But after a moment of looking each other in the eye, Pepper found herself laughing, and though the smile didn’t leave Emily’s face, she cocked her head, puzzled.

“You’re the easiest break-up I’ve ever had,” Pepper laughed, though there was no enjoyment in her voice. And she squeezed Emily’s hand hard.

+++

Pepper stood on Marnie’s doorstep, and she wasn’t quite pacing yet. It was getting quite cold, now, but that didn’t stop her from feeling too warm with all of the blood in her face. She’d worn her favorite sweater (for good luck?), the cream cable-knit one that had a little hole at the end of her right sleeve, and a big red scarf that she’d gotten from Willy (for those cold nights out on the pier, he’d told her, smiling under his beard).

Shane appeared in the doorway, bundled up in a big brown coat and definitely less than awake.

“Ready?” Pepper asked, bouncing on her toes to keep her temperature up.

He let out a long breath, letting the fog coalesce between them in the air.

“Not really,” he told her. “More coffee will probably help, though.” He sounded nervous, but he sounded more like he was trying to play off his nervousness. Even after everything, he was still trying to put up a front.

“I’m nervous,” she said for him.

At first he glanced at her, as if to say ‘what about?’, but then nodded weakly.

“Me too.”

The bus to Zuzu City was almost empty when they got on in Stardew Valley, but once they’d rolled around to all of the other stops, it was positively cramped. And Shane was visibly annoyed with every new passenger.

Pepper took his hand without a thought, which he _definitely_ tried to ignore.

“We can go somewhere else,” she prompted. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

When he gripped her hand back, it was _very_ strong. “I want to do this.”

In the time before his appointment, Pepper showed him around her old neighborhood. Her apartment was one in about a hundred just like it on a gray city block, but each of them had some sort of defining character that its owner had put into it. A plant hanging out of a window here, a string of colorful lights there. It was a little rough around the edges, but she said that sometimes the best things are like that at first, until you get used to them.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” he breathed, but at least it got him to smile.

She didn’t go into the office building with him (he muttered about wanting to be able to do _something_ by himself). She set a hand on each of his shoulders, squaring them.

“I’ll be across the street,” she told him, nodding to the coffee shop on the corner. 

Shane waffled on the edge of leaving and staying and saying something; he was leaning on the latter (literally leaning, like being closer might make things easier to say). She stopped him, a finger in the air and smiling.

“I’ll buy you a coffee when you’re done, okay?” 

He nodded, and they parted. Pepper made sure to watch him all the way into the building before she let out a long, pent-up breath and entered the coffee shop.

+++

An hour passed. Pepper realized that she really didn’t know just how long these sorts of things tended to last.

“Pepper?” came a voice that was strangely familiar. Did she know that voice? She half-turned and suddenly she blanched. Oh yes, she knew that voice. It was Callie Summers, her college roommate, and she was coming right at her.

The farmer found herself bound in an inescapable embrace. Callie was almost two whole feet shorter than her, round and pretty, with long waves of honey-colored hair. Her glasses took up most of her face, the rest of which was split in a too-wide smile.

“Pepper Rodriguez, where have you _been?_ ”

“Um,” Pepper began, but she didn’t get to finish.

“You look so good! Have you been working out?”

“Kinda?”

“Your scarf is adorable! Is it handmade?”

“I think so…”

“What have you been up to? It’s been _way_ too long!”

“Cal,” Pepper cut in, but she eased into a smile. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got an hour to kill!” Callie said excitedly, pulling up a chair at Pepper’s table.

She spun a tale of Stardew Valley. The farm, her animals, her friends, her romantic entanglements; the outline of her life for the past months. Callie listened intently, twirling a strand of hair and sucking on her blended ice coffee drink.

“Sam sounds like such a cutie,” Callie said with a catlike smile. “If you ever bring him to the city, you’ve _got_ to let me meet him.”

“Uh,” Shane’s voice came from behind her, and Callie jumped (so did Pepper—she hadn’t even seen him standing there). If Pepper didn’t know better, she’d say he looked just short of betrayed. But she knew better. “Interrupting something?” he asked, leveling his eyes at Pepper.

“Who are—?” Callie started, but Pepper had risen from her seat like it was on fire, cutting her off and going to Shane’s side.

“Shane, this is Callie,” she said so quickly she was almost sure they weren’t words at all. More importantly (and more slowly), she asked: “Is everything okay?”

He’d looked like a dog that had been left out overnight just a moment before. But with that simple movement, he eased back into himself. Pepper could see Callie looking between them with curious fervor out of the corner of her eye, but in that moment, Callie (or the rest of the coffee shop, or all of Zuzu City) didn’t matter.

“Yeah,” he said (even Pepper couldn’t miss the way his shoulders relaxed). “I think it’s… gonna be okay.”

She felt like there was sunshine in her eyes and her face, and it was all she could do to keep it from bursting out of her.

“Let me buy you a coffee,” she managed to say.

Shane glanced around Pepper (she made a very effective wall) to Callie, then ticked his eyes up to her face. “I’ll meet you up there.”

“Oh. My. Gosh,” Callie whispered once he’d stepped away, suddenly in Pepper’s space. “You are so _obvious_ , Pepper.”

Pepper cycled through a long list of emotions, all of them very bare on her too-honest face (self-righteous ire, embarrassment, horror, just to name a few). She tried to hide the radiating heat with one of her hands, failing. Callie giggled. 

“I gotta say, he’s not your usual type.”

“I don’t have a… type…”

“Sporty,” Callie began, ticking off one finger, and then another when she added: “Tall. Not to mention—”

“Callie,” Pepper hissed around her glowing red face. “It was _really_ nice to see you, but… this is important, okay?”

Her old roommate settled back onto her heels, bubbliness wrangled just as easily as she’d let it out in the first place. She sighed, smiled, and nodded. “Okay. Take care of yourself. And give me a call if anything interesting happens with Scruffy over there, okay?”

“He’s not scruffy!”

“He’s totally scruffy. Ninety percent scruff. Bye, Pepper,” she waved, turning on a dime.

Shane stared into the coffee that Pepper had bought him, definitely not at the girl sitting across from him. He chewed heavily on his words before he chose them.

“Old girlfriend?” he asked as nonchalantly as he thought that he could (which, incidentally, was _not very_ ).

“What?” Pepper scoffed. “No, no way. Old roommate.”

He cleared his throat and nodded. He blew onto his coffee, bringing up a cloud of steam. “Sorry you… couldn’t catch up.”

“Don’t worry about it. If I’d wanted to talk to her, I would have.” 

Something almost like a smile made an appearance on his face. They fell into a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable. It dragged slowly into the next minute, and the coffee shop buzzed around them.

“I broke up with Emily today,” Pepper said quietly, suddenly.

Shane’s head snapped up. “What? Why?” He settled differently into his chair. “I mean, I thought you two were… getting serious.”

Pepper didn’t answer right away. So many things were bouncing around inside her head, ballooning in her chest. She thought, for just a second, that she would tell him _exactly_ why she’d broken up with Emily. Right there. It was almost out of her mouth, wrestling with her tongue, when she stopped herself.

Not today. She didn’t want to put any more weight on his shoulders today. 

She shook it off with a shaky sigh. “I wasn’t in love with her,” she said plainly—another side of the truth.

Shane’s face was slack, surprised but not upset, and he was _watching_ her. So she settled down, cupping her face in her hand and leaning into it, smirking. 

“Tell me how it went.” But she added, thoughtfully: “If you want to.”

So he did. And she listened.


	16. the concert

Fall was a rainy season. It seemed that almost every other day, Pepper woke to the sound of raindrops on her roof (and Steven’s incessant meowing—he hated the rain). Pepper worked whatever she could out of the muddy soil. And on Saturdays, she was at the bus stop (whether it was raining or not) to see Shane off.

He looked, for lack of a more fitting word, _better_. Not perky, by any means. But when he saw her waiting there, his whole frame lifted out of a sag, and a goofy little smile took a sideways place on his face. He was still (much) shorter than her, still round-faced and usually unshaven, but he seemed less _lost_.

“Hey,” she would say. Sometimes she would pull him into a hug. Sometimes she would let him stand at arm’s length.

“Hi, Pepper,” he would answer. 

One morning, he was there before her (before the sun was up, before she’d ever seen him awake). He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, trying to keep warm, and from far away, his breath looked like dragon smoke. He looked up when he heard her coming down the path, and he fumbled with the package that Pepper hadn’t seen in his hands at first.

“Hi, Pepper, uh,” he started before she was even close enough to see his red, cold face. He was the one that approached her, and he shoved the parchment-paper-wrapped package at her (like it was a bomb and he had to get it off his person and soon as possible).

“What’s this?” she asked once she was close enough to take it from him.

“It’s your birthday present,” he said very quickly. “Open it,” he urged (voice shivering with the cold) when he purposely avoided the shining look Pepper was giving him.

It was a bag of whole bean coffee from the shop in Zuzu City. 

She almost kissed him.

“Shane,” she started, and she paused to reign in whatever was trying to sneak out in her voice. And then she thumped her fist into his shoulder. “How did you know it’s my birthday?”

“Ow,” he grumbled (laughed; smiled), rubbing his shoulder. “Sam told me.”

“Sam _told_ you?”

“Okay,” he added, grumbling. “I asked Sam. And then he told me.”

“Thank you,” she said when she hugged him that morning.

“Yeah, well…” he rumbled into her shoulder when she didn’t let him go, but he never finished his thought.

She didn’t see him in the saloon, except for one Friday night. She hadn’t expected him to be there. She’d been sitting with the trio, not talking about anything in particular, and she’d turned to go to the bar to get a few more drinks (and to check in on Emily; she was surprised just how close they still were). Shane had just walked through the door, and he looked like he wanted to bury himself in beer cans. 

When Sam looked up to get her input on whatever he’d just said, Pepper was gone. 

“Hi, Shane,” Pepper said, hoping that it sounded cheerful. 

He looked up, and his shoulders settled when he saw her. She took his hand without a word or a second thought, leading him backwards. 

“What are—?” Shane started to ask, letting himself be led. 

“Just sit, okay?” she told him softly, bringing him to the second room where Sam, Abigail, and Sebastian were still seated.

“Uh,” he said once he realized that they were all three looking at him. “Hi,” he said with an awkward little wave.

Abigail jumped up, and was the first to pull up a seat beside him, engaging him and bringing him into their circle. The horrible tension that had been wound up on his face eased away. Sam clapped Shane energetically on the back, settling into his seat backwards and asking how the day had gone. Shane locked eyes with Pepper for a moment, eyebrows buckling as if saying both ‘thank you’ and ‘what have you done’ in the same movement. 

Sebastian was the last to join in, moodily glaring from the corner of the pool table and obviously fighting with something internal. Pepper pleaded with her eyes, and he finally joined them (but only, he murmured when he was close, because she’d asked him to).

She watched him—not like a dog, not like a stern parent. Just watched, looking for labored breathing or shaking hands, but she didn’t have to worry. He wasn’t as relaxed around her friends as he was around her, now, but he didn’t bite anyone’s head off. Mostly, he sat and he listened (and, every now and then, watched the side of Pepper’s face when he thought she couldn’t see him).

“Are you ever gonna ask him out?” Abigail asked on their way home from the saloon.

“I… eventually…” Pepper waffled.

“He likes you, Peps,” Sam said, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets and shivering. “It’s like… _totally_ obvious.”

“I don’t really like him,” Sebastian murmured. “But you do, and I trust you.” He avoided Pepper’s eyes. “You should make a move sooner rather than later, I think.”

Sam clapped his hands together hard, and it echoed in the square. “Peps! I got it!”

“Oh no,” Abigail laughed.

“Our concert! You gotta bring him and ask him out at the concert!”

“Uh,” Pepper began.

“Oh,” Sam added. “Yeah, we have our first gig tomorrow in Zuzu City.”

“Sam!” Pepper shouted, punching him in the shoulder and laughing. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Wow, you punch super hard,” Sam was laughing.

+++

Pepper seriously considered calling the whole thing off. She rarely felt nervous, and she was so deep into a forest of nervousness by this point that she felt honestly lost. But she would never get anything done if she didn’t face difficulties head-on. And Shane could be a hell of a difficulty, when he wanted to be.

She knocked on Marnie’s door, shuffling in the cold autumn air. After a moment, Jas answered the door, and Pepper grinned down at her.

“Good evening, Jas.”

“Good evening, Miss Pepper,” Jas said, smiling. “Did you come to see Shane?”

“I did,” Pepper said. “Is he here?”

Jas nodded, holding her hand up for Pepper, who took it and let herself be led into the house.

He was in the chicken coop attached to the house, sitting on a stool and surrounded by hens. A white chicken was perched on his knee, clucking and looking right up into Shane’s face. Shane said something to the chicken, which the chicken didn’t seem to notice—but gratefully accepted when Shane scratched the top of its head.

“Shane, Pepper’s here to see you,” Jas said when she pulled Pepper into the coop after her, strong for a little girl.

Shane looked up, suddenly self-conscious in the presence of another human being. 

“Uh,” he started, standing off the stool and bringing the white chicken with him. “You heard me talking to the chickens, didn’t you?”

“Yep,” Pepper said (Jas giggled).

“Pepper,” he said with something of a sigh, and he held up the chicken he’d been holding. “Meet Charlie. Charlie, this is Pepper.”

The chicken’s eyes stared right at her.

“Looks very serious,” Pepper said, very seriously. Shane’s nervous face buckled into a lopsided smile.

“Hey, squirt,” Shane said after a moment, setting Charlie down and mussing Jas’s hair. “Can I talk to Pepper alone for a sec?”

“All right,” Jas said. “Aunt Marnie says we’re having meatloaf for dinner, okay?”

“Great,” Shane muttered, waiting until Jas was gone to let out a long breath. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Are you free tonight?” Pepper asked, kneeling down and offering her hand to Charlie. The chicken nibbled gently at her fingertips before scuttling away.

“As usual,” he replied.

“Sam’s band has a concert—I mean, a ‘gig’—in Zuzu City tonight,” Pepper said, using Sam’s exact air quotes as she stood to her full height again.

“Really.” It wasn’t so much a question as verbal shock.

“Come with me,” she urged. She was in his space now, and he definitely noticed.

He moved his weight to his other foot, looking at some indistinct spot over her shoulder. “Well, now that you know I’d be making up an excuse if I said no…” (But she knew him by now, knew that was his idea of a joke.)

“Good,” she said, offering her hand with a smile almost too big for her face.

+++

They all rode together on the bus to Zuzu City, the band’s equipment filling the luggage hold and Sam noodling on his air guitar for most of the way. Pepper and Abigail were going over last-minute wardrobe and makeup ideas for the band, and Sebastian had managed to get Shane talking—about music of all things. Sebastian was more of an electronic industrial fan, while Shane was going on and on about the glory days of college rock.

“What’s college rock?” Sam asked, picking out new chords on thin air.

The narrow-eyed, withering look Shane fixed him with brought hard, pretty laughter out of Pepper’s mouth, and Abigail joined her, giggling, at the nonplussed expression that came easily to Sam’s open face.

They were the second act in a five-act night, and by the time Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail had begun to set up on the stage, Pepper and Shane had worked their way up to the front row.

“Hi, uh,” Sam said, leaning into the mic and making it whine just slightly. “We’re from Pelican Town and… uh… We’re The Pelicans. Here we go!”

They launched into the song with no further ado. It was upbeat, something Pepper could dance to. She grinned, especially when Sam took a break to flash her a thumbs-up.

“Not bad for a couple of kids,” Shane said loudly over the music, leaning in.

“How old _are_ you, Shane?” Pepper asked, just as loud.

“Isn’t that kinda rude?” He was smirking.

She made the decision that she was going to dance with him. She took his hands, and there was only time for a brief look of shock on his face before she pulled him in close and bounced to the beat (Abigail’s drums beating in her heart, Sam’s loud riffs pinging off of her rib cage).

“What are you doing?” he shouted to be heard, but not pulling away.

“I’m dancing with you!” One of her hands slid to his shoulder. “Is that okay?”

His mouth opened, and he flushed darkly. (Sam was right, it was _obvious_.) She saw his mouth form the syllable for ‘yeah’, but she couldn’t hear him over the loud noise of Sam’s solo.

Pepper led. His movements were cautious and minimal at first. But with her smile and her laugh, with her soft encouragement, he loosened up like it was natural. He let her swing him around to the joyful noises from the stage, and even gave her a spin (despite the awkward height difference—they just rolled with it).

By the end of the second song, Shane was sweaty and wheezing, and leaning into her without thinking and mumbling: “I’ll need to work out more if I’m gonna keep up with you.”

And she almost told him right there—it was perfect.

Until he seemed to realize that the space between songs was eerily quiet, that the crowd was pressing in around them, that the murmuring was getting louder while Sam checked the tuning on his guitar. His hands dropped awkwardly away from Pepper, leaving her feeling cool in the night air.

“Shane?” she asked, moving forward just a touch as Sam counted off and launched into the next song.

Pepper saw the deep draws of breath that hit Shane hard, and he stepped back to match her—then stopped.

“I’m okay,” he told himself. “I’m okay,” he told her. He didn’t look okay.

She took him by both hands, navigating them out of the crowd; lighthouse to a lost ship. The chain link fence that surrounded the patio was almost empty of wallflowers, and Pepper put herself between Shane and the rest of the concert.

“It’s all right, you can talk to me,” she said. “If you want to. We can just sit here, if you want.”

The frustration in his fingers and shoulders didn’t leave him, but the way he looked at her—her stomach knotted and warmth bloomed all through her chest. If she wasn’t sure about this before, she was definitely sure now.

“I’m sorry—” he started, but decided halfway through that he didn’t want to say that at all, rewriting it as it came out of his mouth. “I’m always second-guessing myself,” he told her (the music still loud but somehow far away now). “Like… how could you possibly want to hang out with _me_ , you know? That I’m too old for…” 

He froze. He fumbled with the next words, as if he’d planned another end for his sentence and had to improvise: “… too old for—for this place.”

“Shane,” she said firmly, and he closed his mouth with a thankful look in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Breath whooshed out of him in a staccato note, worry and relief all bundled unfortunately into one. He might have said something else if there hadn’t been a loud cheering from the crowd, signaling the end of the third song.

“Thank you!” Sam said too close into the microphone. “We’re still The Pelicans, and this song goes out to our number one fan, wherever she is!” Sebastian pointed her out astutely at the edge of the crowd, and Sam jabbed a finger in her direction. “THIS ONE’S FOR YOU, PEPS!”

Shane was laughing when she turned back to him, red-faced and hiding from the crowd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're gonna kill me, all of them. also, the dates don't match up perfectly, but I imagine Pepper as a Sagittarius (and I know everyone cares about the zodiac as much as I do)


	17. bouquet

Fall was coming to a quiet end. Mornings were frosty, and her plants were beginning to die already. It was the last weekend in autumn, when Pepper decided that she had to do this. She had to get over whatever nervousness or cowardice was keeping her from just telling Shane how she felt and _do it_ , regardless of rejection or any other unforeseen consequence.

But she had to do it right.

“Pierre,” Pepper said over the counter. He perked up.

“Any last-minute seed orders?”

“I want a bouquet. Please,” she added, going pink.

“Congratulations, then,” Pierre said, grinning. And, for a moment, he dropped the shopkeeper façade and leaned over the counter. “Who’s it for, Pepper?”

Pepper narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know if it’s any of your business, Pierre.” She held a hand to her mouth at her own tone. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as… It’s for Shane.”

“Huh,” was all Pierre said to the exchange. “Well, does he like tulips? Or lilies?”

There was still frost on the ground when Pepper made it to the doorstep of Marnie’s ranch. He would be home today, he wasn’t working. Then again, so would Marnie and Jas. What if she was making the wrong choice? What if she called him out in front of them, and he hated her for it? What if she’d had the wrong idea this whole time?

But she would never know if she didn’t try. The mantra had helped her so far, in the valley. So she sucked in a breath, tucked the flowers behind her back, and knocked on the door.

Marnie answered, looking bright-eyed for the early hour. She eased into a smile.

“Good morning, Miss Pepper! What’s the occasion?” she asked easily, allowing her in.

“Is Shane up yet?” Pepper asked, lingering in the doorway, feeling (and likely looking) uneasy.

“Something wrong?” Marnie asked, her eyebrows doing a concerned dance.

Pepper let out a pent-up breath, and revealed the bouquet she’d been hiding like a child who’d broken a vase.

Marnie’s hands flew up to her mouth, containing a gleeful noise. “I’ll get him,” she said in a hushed voice, like she was already keeping a secret. But before she rushed off, she grabbed Pepper in a tight hug, fixing the farmer with a soft look.

“Why,” Shane started, rubbing at one of his eyes, “are you always here so early? Some people _sleep_ , you… know…” He trailed off, finally seeing her tentative expression. “Pepper?”

(She knew Marnie and Jas were just on the other side of the wall, listening in and maybe even peering around the corner, but she’d committed. She was going to do this.)

Pepper let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding in, and she shoved the bouquet in between them, practically pressing it into his chest.

He looked down. Didn’t seem to register it at first.

“Real funny,” he half-laughed.

It bit into her lungs, hurt her, for just a moment. He saw the look on her face when he’d said it, instantly regretted it. And it all came rushing at him like an oncoming truck.

He took the bouquet from her like it was made of glass. Just looked at it, mouth still half open. And then he finally looked at her. _Really_ looked at her. 

“You’re not…” he started (his voice was thin, almost far away). “You’re not joking.”

She shook her head (afraid to open her mouth in case something unbecoming came out).

He put the bouquet down on the table and moved into her without another word, grabbing her tight and just holding her. She was shaking when she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face against the top of his head, and squeezing her eyes closed. 

Her breath shook out of her, and she started to laugh. And, amazingly, he joined her.

“I didn’t even think you…” he murmured into her shoulder.

“So you…?” Pepper asked, pulling them apart just enough to look at him.

“ _Yeah_ ,” he laughed (exasperated, disbelieving, sleepy). “Yeah,” he said again, lower.

They were interrupted by a loud, joyful noise from Marnie, who swept into the kitchen and grabbed both of them in a hard embrace. She set about sitting them down and making coffee and breakfast. Shane ran his fingers through the lilies in his bouquet just as Jas climbed into Pepper’s lap and reached for her orange juice.

Pepper thankfully accepted the coffee. Shane couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

He saw her out, not so subtly waving Jas and Marnie away when they peered after them. He obviously didn’t think the decision through, seeing as how he was just in his shorts and it was almost winter outside. 

He shivered, a long line of fog leaving his mouth. And they looked at each other, hands pressed together, not saying anything. 

“I’m kinda nervous,” Pepper admitted finally, running her thumb over his knuckles without thinking.

“Me too,” Shane confessed. “Pretty sure I’m gonna wake up any second, you know?”

She felt like she was supposed to kiss him after something like that. Was she supposed to kiss him? The look on his face suggested that he really wouldn’t have minded. 

“I mean that—” Shane cut himself off, looking down at their hands and scrutinizing them (like they weren’t there, like he couldn’t believe it). When he looked back up at her, his eyes were narrowed and there was a strange, lopsided grin there. “Is this why you broke up with Emily?”

Pepper was sure she liked the way her heart fluttered in her chest. 

Shane sucked in a breath and reclaimed his hand to run it through his hair. “I’ve got to do some shopping for Marnie.” He squinted, a wince, almost like he was expecting a bad reaction. “Come with me?”

She held his hand on the walk into town, a mutual, comfortable silence settling between them as they both came to terms with a new normal.

+++

Abigail threw her arms at Pepper and hugged her fiercely.

“I can’t believe you bought that stupid bouquet from my dad,” she whispered, still gleeful. “Did you tell Sam, yet?”

“Do you think Sam’s _awake_ yet?” Pepper laughed.

Abigail made a small, dismissive motion. “Do you think Sam would _care_ if you woke him up?”

Jodi welcomed them in, asked if they’d had breakfast yet. Vincent was already halfway through a plate of scrambled eggs, waving when they came by.

“Oh, you can certainly try,” Jodi giggled when Pepper asked if she could get Sam out of bed. 

They knocked for a few moments, but Abigail took charge and just opened the door and barged in. Sam was still snoring, tangled up in his sheets but (apparently; thankfully) fully clothed. 

“Sam!” Abigail whispered, leaning in—not too close, in case he decided to whirl up and attack any intruders. “Sam, wake up. Sam!”

“Pizza,” Pepper said, almost under her breath, but she was very surprised when it caused Sam to snort awake and look blearily about.

“Mm,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. “I had a pizza dream. Pizza dreams are the worst.” And then he jumped, scooting away from the edge of the bed and clutching his chest. “Girls in my room!”

Pepper was laughing too hard to calm Sam down, so it fell to Abigail to bring him back to reality.

“What the heck are you doing here so early?” Sam asked, finally awake and sitting cross-legged on the bed.

“It’s almost noon, Sam,” Pepper said, narrowing her eyes disbelievingly.

“She did it!” Abigail cried at last, and then winced at her outburst. “Sorry, Pepper, I’m just _really_ excited for you.”

“And? What did he say?” Sam asked, sitting up a little straighter and looking serious (it sat a little strangely on his normally rubbery face).

“Well,” Pepper said (and, she realized, she was going redder by the second), “I’m pretty sure we’re dating.”

“Pretty sure?” Abigail laughed, but Sam spoke over her.

“I'm so proud! My little Peps is all grown up!” he shouted, arms over his head in victory. “But, so you know, the beating him up thing is still on the table if you need it. Just saying.”

“Be nice,” Pepper giggled. “He’s my boyfriend, now.” Wow, that sounded stranger in her mouth than she thought it might. She barely got to take a steady breath before Sam was on her, crushing her lungs in a too-tight hug.

“Did you tell Seb?” Sam asked, slinging an arm around Pepper’s shoulders.

“I…” Pepper hesitated. “I know he doesn’t like Shane.”

“But he likes you,” Abigail said, smiling.

+++

“Can I come in?” Pepper asked, leaning close to Sebastian’s door.

“Yeah, you’re fine, Pepper,” Sebastian answered, and so Pepper stepped into his room.

He was seated at his desk, still in his pajamas and working on a steaming cup of coffee. He smiled lightly when he saw her, but his expression fell again when he saw the look on her face (she didn’t know she was making ‘a look’, but if it was enough to notice, then it must have been pretty bad).

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling out the stool beside him for her to sit.

She took it, taking her time to pick her words (which Sebastian always let her have).

“You’re my friend, Seb,” she said first, to which he took a sip of coffee and didn’t meet her eye. “And I care about what you think. So,” she continued with a hard sigh. “I came to tell you that I asked Shane out this morning.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything. Almost like he knew she had more to say.

“I know you don’t like him," she rambled on. "I just want to make sure…”

Sebastian rolled his chair closer to her stool, and he brought her into a tight hug. She was honestly shocked, so much that she didn’t manage to reciprocate before he pulled back and squared her to him. Looking seriously into her face.

“I’m glad you finally did it,” he said, and a little smile came onto his face. “And I like him a lot more now that he’s been with you for a while. What’s important isn’t what I think, it’s that you’re happy.” He let his arms drop away from her. “Are you happy?”

“Really happy,” she said almost too quickly, and she laughed, blushed, and dropped her gaze.

“Good,” he said plainly, and he took another sip of coffee. “Want to play a quick game of Chronicles while you’re here?”

She played the warrior, and together, they took down a horde of bugbears threatening the local convent.


	18. the game

Pepper heard knocking at her door. Steven’s head popped up from where he was laying in a pool of sunlight, mewling and heading for the door. Pepper switched the TV off and brought her coffee with her.

Shane had his hand up to knock again when Pepper opened the door, and he quickly whipped his hand away and out of sight when he saw her. 

“Hey, Pepper,” he said.

“Hi, Shane,” she said back.

He smiled up at her, and she smiled back. _Oh no,_ Pepper thought. They were a pair of _huge nerds_.

“So,” he jumped awkwardly back into the conversation, shifting to his other foot and looking away. “I got two tickets to the Tunnellers game tonight. I was hoping—well, I was _thinking_ —”

“I’d love to,” Pepper blurted, instantly going red. 

Shane let out a breath in relief. “Good. Okay.” And then he laughed, scrubbing his hair and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m really bad at this,” he muttered, shoulders shaking (with mirth; with embarrassment).

“You’re fine,” Pepper assured him, taking his shoulder and squeezing. “Let’s just say the concert was our first date,” she added with a wild shrug, “so the pressure’s off.”

“Holy shit,” he laughed, hiding his deeply red face in one of his hands and just shuddering with pent-up nerves. “We’re _dating_.”

Their laughter trailed off together, and after a moment, Pepper realized that she was staring (hard). And so was he. She wondered if she should kiss him. She wanted to. She _really_ wanted to. 

“When’s the game?” she asked instead, wishing she’d gone for the other option as soon as she did.

“Oh,” he uttered, “uh, the bus leaves for the city at five. I’ll, um… I’ll meet you at the bus stop, okay?”

_Stay. Ask him to stay. Dangit, Pepper, ask him to stay._

“Yeah,” she choked. “See you.”

Pepper planted her face hard in her hand when she shut the door behind her (ow, she really _did_ hit hard), leaning heavily into it like she was trying to keep something out. 

They were both pretty bad at this, it seemed.

+++

Alex was at the bus stop when Pepper got there, decked out in her stupidly-old Tunnellers jersey—she’d had it all through college; there was a bleach stain on one of the sleeves and the logo was starting to peel off the front on one edge, but she still loved it.

“Hey, Farm Girl,” Alex said, eyebrows shooting up. “Are you going to the game, too?” he asked, giving her a look up and down (it still made her stomach do a little flip, and she hated herself a little for it).

“Yeah,” she said. “It’s my first live game, so I’m kinda nervous.” Not the only reason she was nervous, to be fair.

“You’ve never been to a live game?” Alex asked, laughing a little (but not harshly). “They’re _so_ much better when you’re there.” He moved up into her space in a long-legged stride, pulling his ticket out of his pocket. “Hey, what seat are you? Maybe we could sit together if it’s not packed. They don’t really care where you sit after the first period, anyway.”

“Um,” Pepper started, and she half-turned away from him. “Sorry, Alex,” she said firmly (though she hoped that it wasn’t harsh). “I’m already going with Shane.”

Alex’s eyebrows pressed down in confusion. “Oh,” he said, and it was plain that he was shocked, though he didn’t let it show on his strong face. “Yeah, okay, that’s… _Shane_?”

“Yeah. We’re… he’s my boyfriend.” She straightened up, realizing just how good it felt to say that. She didn’t feel nervous anymore. 

Alex looked blankly at her for a moment, and she realized that he looked _disappointed_. What? And his eyes ticked up over her shoulder. Whatever he saw made Alex take a respectful step backwards out of Pepper’s space, so she turned.

Shane was standing behind her, a too-big Tunneller’s hat squashed on his head, stuffed in his puffy brown coat, and holding up their tickets like he’d been about to hand them over to her. Looking at her, eyes bright. She didn’t know if she’d ever seen him so happy. 

“Hey!” she said brightly, and grabbed him in a sudden embrace (tight enough to squeeze the breath out of him). “I’m really excited,” she said when she let him go. 

Shane’s expression was dazed, but he nodded. He didn’t let go of her hand the whole way to Zuzu City.

There were a lot of people at the stadium. Pepper was used to the city and the crowds, used to shoving shoulders to claim a position on the subway. So she used herself like an icebreaker, parting the crowd to get them through to their seats (which were pretty great, to be honest; they were incredibly close to the field, and she’d seen Alex ten whole rows back).

“Let me buy you a beer,” Shane said once they’d reached their seats.

Pepper made a small wince, but Shane was quick to start again.

“It’s okay, I’m not…” He scrubbed awkwardly at the stubble under his ear. “I’m not drinking like that anymore. I just… I’d like to have a beer with you and watch the game.” He hesitated. “But I won’t if it… makes you uncomfortable.”

She let out a long breath, eyes searching him (seeing the cliffs and the rain behind her eyelids when she blinked), but eased the tension in her shoulders. She trusted him, it was as simple as that. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be here.

“A beer sounds really good right now,” Pepper admitted.

By the time they’d gone through the national anthem and the first kickoff, Shane was back with two tallboys. 

“What’d I miss?” Shane asked, handing hers over and waiting for her to start drinking before he did.

“Not much,” she said, settling down into her seat next to him. “These are great seats,” she told him. She never asked how much they cost him.

“Yeah, well,” he began, “you can afford a lot more when you’re not trying to kill yourself drinking.”

He froze halfway through a drink, gulping the rest down and fixing the beer with a horrified look. 

“I can’t believe I said that,” he muttered, running a hand down his face and sinking lower in his seat. “This is the worst date.”

She grabbed his hand. “Shane,” she said, and it was enough to get him to look at her. “I told you that you can tell me anything.”

He had that look on his face again, the gut-punch look that made her insides all jumbled. The crowd roared around them, and for a moment, they just watched the game.

“Pepper,” he started, once the action had died down. His eyes were on the field, concentrating almost too hard on not looking at her, but his thumb ran thoughtless little circles on her hand. “I… I’ve been meaning to say… Thanks for sticking with me through everything.” He took a drink, and so did she. “My anxiety, depression… you know…” He set his beer down in the drink holder, shifting up taller in his seat. “You’ve been a really good friend to me.”

They paused to cheer on the Tunnellers, and Shane shouted something _very_ rude at an official. In the middle of Pepper’s long, cheerful laugh, she caught Shane staring at her. 

“Anyway,” Shane went on, leaning on the armrest in between them to be heard over the crowd noise, “this is your first live game, right? What do you think?”

“I love it!” she said instantly. “Well,” she added after a second of thought. “I love the game, but there’s so many people here… It’s really noisy. Makes me miss home a little.”

“That’s why you moved to valley, right?” he asked her. “To get away from all of this?” He took a long drink. “I get bored of Pelican Town sometimes. But,” he added (and he was looking at _her_ now), “I like that we… kinda balance each other out.”

She didn’t get a chance to say anything to that. Because the Tunnellers were suddenly on the attack, turning the flow of play in an instant, and the whole crowd was in an uproar around them. Pepper was up out of her seat, and the entire section was on their feet, and Shane was yelling almost incoherently at the players.

The horn sounded, and it felt like the whole stadium erupted in a single cheer. Voices in every direction screamed “GOAL!” at the top of their lungs. And Shane’s voice was one of them.

He was laughing, arms raised up over his head and cheering. And then both of his hands were on either side of her face, pulling her down and mashing their lips together.

The stadium noise dimmed out around her, even as the goal chant began. Everything focused on those points where they met, warm and insistent. 

_Finally_.

And when Shane moved away, face still shining and pulled back in a grin, he looked into Pepper’s eyes like they were oncoming headlights. And suddenly realized what he’d just done. His face dropped instantly, almost comically, into embarrassed horror. He snatched his hands back from her face like she’d been on fire (she certainly felt like she was) and took three whole steps away.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, hands still half-raised, defensively. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—I just got carried away—”

Pepper didn’t exactly remember how she’d moved so quickly back into his space. All she knew was leaning back down and kissing him quickly. Shane froze for a long moment, just looking at her _right_ up against him, faces radiating heat, noses touching. 

And then his expression went soft, and he took her face in his hands again, gentler this time, bringing them together for a third time. 

He practically melted into her, just sighing and tilting his head up to get more of her mouth against his. His fingers found the hair at the back of her neck, holding them together like he was a desperate man clinging to a raft.

When the crowd cheered again, they came apart at last. Just looking at each other almost like they couldn’t believe what just happened. 

“I don’t think you’re bad at this,” Pepper said, still very close and smiling.

Shane barked a laugh, ducking in to butt his forehead up against her shoulder. Even from there, she could feel how hot his face was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay folks, rating is gonna climb again next chapter, here's your fair warning. i have never in my fanfiction life written anything even remotely smutty, so i took it a little easy on this one... still pretty smutty though. i really hope it doesn't suck, ha... haha...


	19. come home

They were quiet almost the whole bus ride back to Stardew Valley. Every few minutes, Shane would break into embarrassed fits of quiet laughter, gripping her hand and lacing their fingers tightly together. He would start a sentence (“I can’t believe… I was just… You’re so…”) and trail off, lost but grinning in the silly, giddy way they’d only just discovered together.

Pepper said goodnight to Alex and Gus as they left the bus, leaving the two of them alone at last.

“Well, that was…” Shane started, searching for words to adequately describe everything that was mingling on his face, “definitely a good game.” He definitely meant more than that.

Pepper nodded. Because she couldn’t speak, not when her brain was working so fast and in so many directions. It must have shown in her eyes, because he looked away quickly.

“Um,” Shane said after another long moment. “I really… Hm.” He rethought his words, looking at Pepper’s face like he very much wanted to kiss her again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Pepper,” he said too quickly, and he turned to leave.

She reached out before he could disappear, a hand on his shoulder stopping him from moving away, and he was dark-red and flustered when he turned back to her. She didn’t think it was possible, but he flushed even harder when her hand moved along the line of his shoulder, traveled to his neck, and worried his collar in her fingers.

The look on his face was everything—surprise, tenderness, hesitation, _need_. He tried very hard to stamp it all down with a gulp of fresh air, but there was no stopping it.

“Come home with me,” Pepper said quietly, very plainly. 

And he still managed to utter, shocked: “What?”

“Please,” she added, releasing his collar but letting her fingertips linger.

He let out a breath, like he’d just run a mile. Looked up at her like she really was the sun.

Steven skittered out of the way of two sets of feet that clambered in together, knocking against the screen door with two sets of laughter. Pepper pulled Shane’s mouth against hers again and again, and he helplessly followed. 

He hit the bed first, almost tripping backwards onto it, and fell into her covers with an ‘oof’. And she was on him in a blink, couldn’t stop kissing him (feeling his hot hands sliding all over her, gripping at the hair at the back of her head and pulling even more kisses from her).

She pulled up and away from his mouth (not that he didn’t let her go without a fight, stealing three more kisses before she’d gone), and she was the one that slipped her shirt off over her head. It hit the ground somewhere indistinct, followed by the sound of Steven bolting away again. Like it was the easiest thing she’d ever done, she popped the hooks of her bra, and she didn’t care where it landed (not embarrassed, not afraid).

Shane just stared at her. Flat on his back in her bed, Pepper topless and straddled on top of him, both of them pink and flushed and just breathing and looking at each other.

“Is this okay?” she asked suddenly.

Shane didn’t answer. His expression buckled, and he quickly passed a hand over his face, letting it linger too long on his eyes. He breathed out again (shaking).

Pepper moved immediately to slide off of him, but she felt his hand on her hip, warm even through her jeans.

“Don’t,” he said quickly, and she heard him take another gulp of air, and it left him slowly. “Don’t go. Please,” he added.

She stayed, a hand steady on his chest, letting him breathe.

“I want to do this,” he said at last, moving his hand from his face and looking up at her (like she was _everything_ ). “I want…” He let out another long breath, and there was something stronger in this one. “I love you, Pepper.” 

The way he said it sounded like he had loved her for a very long time.

It struck her like she was clear crystal, and she was ringing. She bent into a laugh, but it was the clearest, purest laugh she’d ever felt come out of her. There were tears in her eyes when she kissed him again, grabbing a fistful of his shirt to pull him up to meet her. 

“I love you, Shane,” she said, very close and very soft.

(She didn’t tell him that she noticed him wiping at his eyes when he sat up under her and threw his own shirt off.) 

He took in a steadying breath, fingers splayed out on her hips and eyes just all over her. Pepper ran her hands up his chest, through the hair there; skidding up the sides of his face, tangling in his hair when she held them together at the mouths. 

She let him take his time mapping her out, finding every new place he wanted to kiss her. Hands digging into her back, mouth and tongue on her breast; teeth scraping the little place just under her ear, hot breath on her neck, fingers running over the muscles in her arms. Her breathing came in short and shallow, each new spot he found with his mouth more wonderful than the last one.

Shane gently removed her from her space on top of him, and she was the one to fall back into her sheets this time. He bracketed her with an arm on either side of her (she could fall into those eyes, pupils blown wide and hazy with a desire that stirred her in her core). Pepper couldn’t help the needy noise she made when he started working on the zip of her jeans, and suddenly there was a goofy little smile on his lips, something soft she’d almost never seen. She lifted her hips when he asked, slipping off her pants, and she realized she was making the exact same face.

He didn’t say anything at first, with her lying naked (and a little cold) in front of him—just ran his thumb along the inside of her thigh, _looking_ at her.

“You’re really buff,” he murmured, and she burst into nervous, pretty laughter. He ran another hand across his face, grinning and laughing. “Also beautiful,” he added (like he’d forgotten that part), running a hand along her leg.

Shane pressed open-mouthed kisses low on her stomach, following her curves and taking his sweet time. Pepper didn’t have time to be embarrassed by the noises coming out of her before his face was between her legs—she made a gasp and dug fingers hard into his hair.

“Ow,” he murmured against her thigh.

“Sorry,” she breathed, easing up. “Don’t stop,” she added, throwing her head back when he moved right back in.

He finished her first, and she didn’t realize just how loud she’d been until she found him (red-faced, short of breath) laughing gently up at her from where he was leaning on her stomach. 

Pepper threw both of her hands over her face, shaking with mirth and embarrassment, among other things. He climbed up beside her, pried at her hands (they were both laughing now, so much it hurt) until he could see her face, grinning down at her. 

Shane brushed the damp hair out of her eyes, and he kissed her solidly on the forehead. 

And then she rolled him over, pinned him on his back. He made a strangled little noise of surprise at just how easily she’d thrown him, but he didn’t have very long to think about it. She was tugging the last of his clothes off. 

His legs tucked involuntarily closer to himself when she went for his underwear, and she pulled her hands back when he shied away, looking up at him. He was up on one elbow now, looking down at himself with a short look of despair. She could see so much in that look, he didn’t have to say anything. But he did.

“I can’t believe I’m so out of shape,” he groaned, rifling a hand through his hair. “I’m not…” It was like he was telling her he didn’t deserve this. 

Pepper leaned back down and kissed him on the stomach. “I don’t care,” she said, quite firmly—but still soft and quiet. Another grin burst free on her lips. “I think you’re adorable.”

A bubble of nervous laughter hit him, and he fell back down into her pillows. “Adorable, great,” he giggled (now he was the one hiding his face and shaking). 

“I can stop if you want me to,” she told him, running her thumb along the elastic band of his underwear.

“You don’t—” He visibly swallowed. “You don’t have to do…”

“I want to,” she replied, shimmying him free of the last of his clothing. “I asked you to stay, I want to.”

“Pepper,” he said, breath tight. He was halfway into another word when she pressed herself onto him, and whatever thought he’d had was gone—the sentence turned into a shaky little moan, and he grabbed her hips with both hands and held her there.

She led, holding his hands on her hips as she rolled them (slowly and steady, in time with her breath). He squeezed his eyes shut, dug his fingernails in, left little pink half-moons on her skin. He wasn’t exactly quiet, either.

They were a sweaty mess, a tangle of limbs when it was over. Shane had an arm over his eyes, catching his breath and red all the way down his face and neck to his chest. Pepper perched beside him, an arm on either side of him, just looking down at him when he wasn’t watching her. She felt like sunshine was pouring out of her eyes. She ducked down and kissed his exposed cheek, stubble rough on her lips—and he smiled, low and soft, peering out at her from under his arm.

“Hi,” he said. But it meant much more.

Pepper rose first, and Shane made an inquisitive noise before she pulled him up by both hands. They rinsed off together in Pepper’s shower (though quite a lot of it was spent locked together by the mouths rather than getting clean). 

He fell asleep in her bed, her arm wrapped (tightly; protectively) around him from behind, holding him.

+++

She woke up with the sun.

He was still there, lying on his back and breathing loudly under her arm.

Pepper didn’t know why she’d expected to be alone in the morning, but just seeing him lying there with her made her heart swell up inside her chest and threaten to push tears into her eyes.

She pulled herself free as carefully as she could, but, she realized after banging pots in the kitchen, Shane was a _deep_ sleeper. She dressed, but only barely (she’d briefly entertained trying on Shane’s shirt, but didn’t want to push anything, not yet).

“Hey,” she said, kneeling down beside the bed and brushing his hair back to kiss his forehead. He stirred, grunting. “Want some breakfast?”

“Buh?” he murmured, trying to open his eyes. When he finally did, it seemed to take him a moment to realize that he wasn’t in his own bed, or his own home. Pepper smiled down at him, morning sunlight filtering in and turning the room golden and hazy with the smell of coffee and eggs. 

His eyes focused, finally, and he leaned up on one elbow, mouth serious for a moment. 

“You made breakfast?”

Her grin brightened, and she shrugged. “Kinda. I’m not a very good cook.”

He grabbed her face and he kissed her, very suddenly and very soundly. But he was the one who broke away, mumbling about his morning breath. 

“There’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom,” she told him (why couldn’t she stop smiling?).

“Planning on company?” he asked, snuggling the sheets tighter around him as he sat up. 

“Just in case,” she said quietly. She beamed, just looking at him.

And he was blushing. “What?” he muttered, suddenly not looking at her and looking like he felt very out of place.

She stopped his squirming with a steady hand on his wrist. “I’m glad you stayed,” she told him.

It only made him flush even deeper, spreading down his neck and into his ears very obviously. He made some noises that might have qualified as words, but when he didn’t say anything coherent after a moment, he stood off the bed and shuffled away toward the bathroom, draped in her sheets, her giggling trailing after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope I struck an okay balance here, feedback is more than welcome. thanks so much for sticking with me so far1


	20. morning after

He didn’t want Marnie to know they were sleeping together. 

The two of them were sitting around her kitchen table—Pepper in her too-big pajama shirt and bright pink underpants; Shane was still wrapped in her sheet like it was some kind of overlong toga. They were on their second cup of coffee each, and Shane had completely demolished the breakfast she’d made him.

Pepper was going to point out that, even if she thought Marnie would be the kind of person to even care about that sort of thing, she shouldn’t be one to talk. But then, she remembered that she was supposed to be keeping that a secret.

Instead, she said: “Won’t she wonder where you were last night?”

“I could tell her I picked up an overnight shift,” he thought out loud, scratching at the stubble under his chin in thought.

Pepper shrugged, looking down into her coffee. Shane leaned his head heavily in one hand, and she could feel him looking at her.

“You don’t want to lie,” he said—she was so easy to read.

“I won’t tell Marnie, if you don’t want me to,” Pepper said, and she reached across the table to lace their fingers together. “But you’re right, I don’t want to lie about… _this_.”

He sighed, and it lasted a long time. But when she looked up from her coffee, he was smiling at her in that ridiculous, syrupy way. She narrowed her eyes and mirrored him.

“What’s with the goofy grin?” she asked.

“ _You’ve_ got a really short memory,” Shane mumbled around the way he was smiling and now, suddenly, blushing (trying to hide it rather ineffectively behind a long draw from his coffee). 

And then, suddenly, he looked like someone had slapped him in the face. “Pepper, what time is it?”

She looked around for her clock, but he had already noisily scraped the chair away from the table and bolted for the pile of clothes they’d left next to the bed. 

“I have to go to work,” he laughed, a little manic, hopping into his pants and almost tipping over into her bed. “I have to run back to the ranch, get my uniform, I have to—”

Pepper took his face in both of her hands, and she kissed him very soundly. He mindlessly hummed a little pleased note against her, almost falling right into her embrace and starting this whole thing over again, but Pepper broke away. She pressed a finger to his lips, and his eyes ticked up to look at her a little like a scolded puppy.

“It’ll be fine,” she whispered in their closeness. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Shane let loose a pent-up breath and nodded.

+++

It got dark so early in first days of winter. Pepper knew that Shane was off of work around five, and would be back home at six, so she made it a safe six-thirty before she knocked on Marnie’s front door. Jas answered again, and the girl latched herself around Pepper’s middle.

She pulled Pepper inside and only a moment later, Marnie had swept Pepper up in a hug.

“Well,” Marnie laughed when she moved out of the hug, giving Pepper a knowing look. “If it isn’t our little celebrity.”

Pepper smiled, but the look on her face was a jumble of confusion and flattery. Celebrity? What was that supposed to mean?

She found out when Shane burst out of his room, looking like he’d just met several ghosts.

“Kiss Cam,” he said like it was a bolt of lightning.

Pepper blinked at him, not catching on (even if she _was_ aware of Marnie laughing on her periphery).

“The game was on TV,” Shane elaborated, frantic. “ _We_ were on TV. Kiss Cam, Pepper!”

A moment of silence passed. And then brilliant laughter burst out of her in a sharp jag, and judging by the slack look on his face, it was not the reaction Shane had been hoping for.

“Everyone… _everyone_ saw…” Shane stammered, both hands in his hair and grabbing stressful fistfuls.

“I don’t care,” Pepper said, still laughing, loving the embarrassed redness in his face. 

Something loosened in his shoulders, and he eased his arms down, listening to her laugh. “You don’t care that… that _thousands_ of people saw you kissing _me_?”

“Nope.” She shook her head, and leaned down, pressing a long, solid kiss at his temple (his skin was so hot under her lips). “Do you care that they saw you kissing _me?_ ” she asked him.

“’Course not,” he mumbled. “But you’re… way prettier than me.”

It was Pepper’s turn to blush, and that finally made him smile. She probably would have kissed him right there if Marnie’s tinkling laughter hadn’t broken through her thoughts.

“So that’s where you were last night, then?” Marnie asked Shane—but her smile was so wide and soft and _happy_.

Pepper wasn’t going to say anything. But she felt Shane take her hand, surprisingly strong and firm.

“Yeah,” he said, and that was that.

+++

Snow had started falling by the time Pepper got back into town, heading for the saloon to spill everything to Emily and maybe have a well-deserved drink with her.

But she was ambushed by a trio of friends, all standing together in the town square in the gentle snow like they were waiting for her (maybe they were).

“ _AAH!_ ” Sam shouted, pointing at her before grabbing her up in a hug that swept her off her feet. “Pepper! Our romantic TV star!”

“So, how much did they actually get on the… the _Kiss Cam_?” Pepper asked as casually as possible.

“Right after they showed the goal,” Sam said, finally letting Pepper go to dramatically set the scene with a wave of his hand, “they cut to crowd reactions. And then _bam!_ Peps and Shane locking lips in the middle of my screen!”

“He cheered,” Sebastian said, lighting up a cigarette.

“That was for the goal,” Sam protested.

“No, it wasn’t,” Sebastian corrected (smirking across at Pepper).

“We can call it a successful date, then,” Abigail said, smiling broadly.

Sebastian was (of course) the first to notice just how red Pepper’s face had gone, and he stifled a laugh. _He_ stifled a laugh. Which, of course, meant that everyone noticed. And, with everyone looking, all she could do was bury her face in her hands.

One of Abigail’s hands flew to her mouth, which wasn’t enough to keep the cheerful laughter in. “Wow, okay, a _really_ successful date.”

“What?” Sam asked, lost completely.

“Well, Sam,” Sebastian said, slinging an arm around Sam’s shoulders and tugging him in tight. “When a bird loves a bee _very_ much—”

“Stop it,” Pepper laughed. “You’ll give him a condition.”

“He’s a grown-up,” Abigail giggled.

“What, come on!” Sam tried to shrug off Sebastian’s arm, and then he appeared to be struck by the revelation. “Ohh,” he whispered, like they would be caught. “ _Oh_!” He crowed, pointing sharply again at Pepper. 

He wriggled free of Sebastian to grab Pepper in a playful headlock, mussing her hair and keeping her trapped despite her struggles. Their combined laughter echoed in the square, off the falling snow. So did the noise of approaching footsteps (Pepper was sure it would be Mayor Lewis telling them to break it up and go home already).

It was Shane, bundled up practically to his eyebrows in a big fluffy scarf (that Pepper was sure Marnie had insisted he take with him), holding something with tin foil crimped over the top.

“Hi, Pepper,” Shane said, coming to a halt several feet away once he realized that she was surrounded by her friends (and they were _all_ staring at him). “Uh. Hey, guys.”

Abigail exploded in a laugh that doubled her up. Sam let Pepper go and immediately was up in Shane’s face, grinning as he poked the shorter man in the shoulder.

“You take care of my little girl, young man,” Sam rumbled in a very fake deep voice, unable to look very serious with the bright grin stretching across his face. Sebastian chuckled, blowing the smoke of his cigarette away from them.

“Come on, Sam,” Sebastian said, tugging his friend away from Shane and heading off.

“Goodnight, Pepper!” Abigail called over her shoulder, waving. “Goodnight, Shane!”

“What the hell was that all about?” Shane asked quietly, stepping up to Pepper and watching her friends walk off into the night.

“I’m sorry,” Pepper giggled, unwinding the scarf from around his face to pull him into a long, solid kiss. He really didn’t seem to mind. “You know how kids are,” she added, eyes sparkling.

“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?” he grumbled, glancing away from her loving stare.

“I don’t think so,” she said, rifling her fingers through his hair, mussing the snowflakes that had landed there.

He finally looked her in the eye, and she could see everything he was thinking. He loved her, he _really_ loved her. And with the snow falling around them, the quiet of the town square in the dark, it really did feel perfect.

“Um,” he said, shaking the look out of his eyes and presenting the foil-covered dish to her. “Marnie asked me to bring you this.”

“Leftovers?” Pepper asked, taking it off his hands and peeking under the foil.

“Cookies,” he corrected her. 

She pressed the dish back into Shane’s hands, much to his confusion.

“I think I need help taking them home,” she told him. And when he didn’t immediately seem to follow, she waggled her eyebrows at him.

“Pull my leg,” he faux-sighed, allowing her to lead him by the hand out of town and toward the farm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks everyone for the kind words! you're all awesome and i hope you're having a good day!


	21. first fight

Pepper was watching the way Shane’s back moved when he stretched and turned away from her, collapsing back into the pillow with a groan. 

“You’re wearing me out. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired in my life,” he told her, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m not a kid anymore, you know.”

“You keep saying that,” Pepper murmured, tracing blind shapes on his shoulder.

Shane spent a long minute staring up at Pepper’s ceiling, listening to the wind and the snow. He didn’t look at her for a long time. It was almost as if he’d started drifting away. Pepper felt her eyes begging her to shut them, but something about the silence was keeping her away. It wasn’t an easy silence—it felt heavy, suddenly. 

She pushed herself up on one elbow to get a better angle, to look down at Shane, whose eyes were unfocused and staring aimlessly into the dark corners of her ceiling.

“Did you have an extra toothbrush for Emily, too?”

Pepper didn’t say anything at first, just blinking at him. Where did that come from? “What?” she asked for clarification.

He turned and he looked at her. “When you had Emily over. You slept with _her_ too, right?”

Something ballooned in Pepper’s chest, but it wasn’t a good, warm feeling. It was it was like a dark rain cloud, growing and filling her up.

“That’s not really any of your business,” she said as calmly as she could manage (but she still felt the acid leaking out of her).

“It’s…” Shane narrowed his eyes. “Well, it’s…”

“I haven’t asked you about the last person you slept with,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

“That’s different,” he grumbled, and he was out of bed quickly, shuffling through their clothes until he found his underwear. 

“Why?” Pepper challenged him. “How is that _any_ different?”

“Because I _know_ Emily.” He’d raised his voice. Pepper felt her heart shrink back, suddenly anxious.

“That’s… that doesn’t make any sense,” she said, though her voice was anything but strong. 

“Right.” There was a line of anger rigid in his shoulders. 

“Shane, why are you—”

“ _Okay_ , Pepper,” and suddenly his voice was louder, and he’d whipped around to face her. Something was different in his face. It was a look she hadn’t seen in a long time. “You want to know the last person I fooled around with? Her name was Amy Gallagher, and we were nineteen years old. How old were you when I was nineteen, Pepper? Seven?”

“Shane,” she tried to say again, but her voice was suddenly too weak to speak over him.

“I was in _love_ with that girl, but she picked a different college, and that was it. She met a real nice guy named Ryan, and they got married. But I got over it, and we were best fucking friends for a long time.” He was waving his arms now, and his breath was coming in a little too deep. “They had a cute little kid, perfect little life, and we were all real fucking happy.”

“Please—” Pepper hated the feeling pricking up in her eyes, but she could stop it.

“And then they both _fucking_ died, and now I’ve got to look their kid in the face every day!”

Pepper went pale, and she could feel herself shaking, radiating outward from her chest in a full-bodied shiver. She was cold. 

And Shane suddenly realized just how loud he’d been—the hand he’d been waving around his head was shaking, went hard into a fist, and he fell heavily down into the nearest chair.

“Shit,” he hissed, and his voice was very tight. He ducked his head down into one of his hands, and he hid himself from her. It took him the space of a long breath to regret everything. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” she said very quietly, but it still fell into the conversation like a rock. She looked up, felt the tears on her face (hated them), and saw him frozen in the chair across from her. She rose to her feet, pulling her sheet around her. “I didn’t sleep with Emily. I had a girlfriend in college named Tessa, and before that a boyfriend named Jack, and I slept with both of them. That’s what you wanted me to tell you, right?”

He didn’t move. There was cold panic in his eyes.

The calm broke on her face when she tried to keep the little jagged sob from leaving her, and those trapped tears tracked down her face unbidden.

He was on his feet, hands out in front of him like he was about to defend himself. He took a long, steadying breath. “Pepper, I am _so_ sorry, I don’t even know why I said… any of that. I’m…” He froze again, and suddenly looked like _he_ was going to cry, grabbing a weak fistful of his own hair. “I’m the worst boyfriend.”

She hastily wiped the tears off her face, watching him fracture in front of her as she blinked new ones from her eyes to replace them. She stepped hastily into his arms and let him hold her, burying her face in his hair.

“I’m sorry, I… I don’t want to fight with you,” he said into her shoulder.

“You started it.” Her voice was muffled through tears and his hair.

“I know, I know,” he added. “I’m… such an asshole.” He uttered a self-depreciating laugh. “Most of the time I wonder why you’d even want _me_.”

“I was gonna say jerk,” she mumbled, but she finally loosed her arms from his grip so she could hold him, too. She took in a stuttered breath. “Shane, we have to work together if this is going to happen. If _we’re_ going to happen.”

Pepper slid away from him, just enough to look into his face—he couldn’t look at her, there was too much inward anger and pain in his eyes. She touched the side of his face to turn his eyes, and he helplessly followed.

“I love you,” she said, and he knew by now that she couldn’t lie. “But that can’t be all.”

“Wow,” he breathed. He went loose, and all that strain in his face and joints turned to jelly when he looked up at her. “Sometimes you sound so much older than me,” he said, realized he was staring at her like a fool, and he ducked his head back down, hiding against her shoulder. “I don’t deserve you.”

“No one really deserves anything,” she said, kissing the top of his head. “We get to choose.” 

“And you’d still choose me?”

“Yep.” 

His eyes were shining when he looked back up at her, and she wiped at the tears sitting on his cheeks. 

“I _am_ sorry,” he mumbled, leaning into her hand.

“I know,” she said. “I’m… We’re still getting the hang of this.” She found his hand, placed a kiss on his knuckles, and said: “Come back to bed.”

He did. But all they did was talk. He curled up against her, and told her everything about Amy and Ryan and their little girl Jas. How he wasn’t ready to be a godfather, especially when both of his friends were dead. He spoke through tears about packing everything up and moving to the valley just so he could take care of the last little bit of his best friends that he still had, a little girl that looked just like her father.

Pepper pressed long kisses to his forehead, and she didn’t say a thing. She just listened, kissed away his tears, and laced their fingers together. And that’s how they fell asleep.

+++

Shane was gone when Pepper woke up.

She just laid there, staring at the dent in the pillow where his head had been. It was too early for work, so he wouldn’t have rushed off again because of that. And she’d hoped that, if he had to go, he would have woken her up to say goodbye.

Unless last night was too much for him. Even if they’d talked it out, what if he’d decided that they were just too much work, that he was going to find his way to the bottom of a bottle instead?

She got dressed quickly, not bothering to check if she matched or not.

It was freezing outside, and Shane was out in just a t-shirt and jeans, sleeves rolled up to boot. He had a full basket of eggs in each hand, watching his path very carefully as he headed for the house. He almost ran right into her.

“Oh,” Shane said, almost dropping a basket surprise. “Morning. Um.” He was looking at his feet. “I felt really bad. About last night. And you were sleeping like a baby, so I thought…” He shrugged, looking up like a dog about to be kicked. “I thought maybe I’d try to help out a little.”

Pepper pulled him into a quick, tight hug.

“I really wanna hug you back,” he said, muffled and a little choked, “but I’ve got a lot of eggs.”

“How long before you have to be at work?” Pepper asked seriously, pulling back to stare at him.

“Uh,” he drew out, falling into the needy look he found on her face and losing all semblance of composure. 

She pulled him in hard again, but this time into a searing kiss. He really did almost drop the eggs.

He was on top this time, but she somehow still managed to lead. Rolling her hips upward into him, one leg wrapped around him to fit them even closer together. He planted a hand on the wall behind her head, grasping for more leverage (wanting more of her). She arched her back, keening and grabbing fistfuls of sheets. And she accidentally kicked him in the face once when she shifted positions, but he just held his eye and laughed.

Shane was breathing like he’d run two marathons at the same time, looking hazily down into her face—framed by a halo of pink hair, glowing and smiling up at him in a pleased little way.

“I really need to work out more,” he wheezed, “if I’m gonna keep up with you.”

“I think this counts as working out,” Pepper sighed, pushing herself up to kiss him on his sweaty brow. 

He showered quickly, and he was mostly into his blue work uniform when Pepper came into the bathroom after him. She leaned in the doorway, looking at him a little sadly (and when he looked up and found her still utterly naked, he dropped his eyes and still went bright red).

“I wish you didn’t work at that place,” she murmured.

“Ha,” he laughed without joy. “You and me both. But I’ve got to pay rent somehow, right?”

“I could pay you,” Pepper said. She realized how it sounded as soon as it came out of her mouth, and judging by the confused, worried look on Shane’s face, so did he. “No, not for… um…” She was suddenly aware of how naked she was. “I mean, if you helped on the farm.”

He leaned back, running a hand through his shower-wet hair and finally looking at her.

“I don’t want to take money from you, Pepper,” he said quietly. “But… thank you. Really.” 

When he kissed her, it was so soft that she almost lost the feeling in her knees.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he told her. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” It came so easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first fight? more like hard to write, har har (i'm in pain).


	22. dinner with mom

“You never talk about your family,” Shane said, working quickly through a bowl of cereal, “and suddenly you’ve got a mom who wants to have dinner with me?”

“You can say no,” Pepper told him. “You can _definitely_ say no.”

“Wh—” Shane blew out a puff of air that was almost a word, deflating. He finished the cereal and drank the last of the milk out of the bowl. “I don’t have any nice clothes,” he said finally, staring into the distance as if he were in the middle of a sudden existential crisis.

“It’s fine,” Pepper said, scooting her chair closer to him and slinging an arm around his shoulders. “We don’t have to go.”

“She’s your mom, Pep,” he rumbled, leaning into her instinctually. “I think if I made it this far, I’m gonna have to meet her eventually.” He scrubbed his face with both hands, then peered up at her. “Any other surprise relatives I should know about?”

“None that are on the quiz,” Pepper replied, grinning. She kissed his nose (she loved the way that she could still make him blush). “Get dressed, I’ll walk you to work.”

“It’s really shitty out,” he reminded her, not moving.

“So I’ll hold your hand so you don’t slip,” she told him, and she tugged him up from his chair and into her arms, where she kissed him for what seemed like a very long time.

“What if she doesn’t like me?” Shane asked as they left the bounds of the farm, snowflakes so thin they were almost invisible twirling in the air around them in the pale, early light. Their shoes crushed the gray and brown icy slush on the path.

“You won’t be the only one she doesn’t like,” Pepper remarked.

“What if I embarrass you?” he asked as they came through the town square.

“If you haven’t yet,” she said, fluffing snow out of his hair, “I don’t think you will.”

“What if I… _freak out_?” he asked as they came to the north bridge, which finally made him come to a stop.

Pepper let him have a moment of space, looking down at the back of his head (the way his shoulders sagged, one hand tightening at his side). And then she stepped up, looping her arms around him from behind, and buried her face in his hair.

“I’ll still love you,” she breathed. 

She just held him there, in the cold and the snow, until he realized the time and snatched a kiss before bolting off. Pepper lingered on the bridge, watching snowflakes melt as they hit the water, the fingers of ice reaching from the banks of the river.

When he walked in her door after work, Pepper was in the bedroom, holding a blue flannel shirt up by the sleeves like she was measuring it with her eyes. She turned quickly when he knocked on the door frame, face practically exploding in a smile.

“Try this on,” she said, taking long strides to reach him. 

“Smells a little weird,” he muttered, slipping into the sleeves. If anything, it was a little _big_ on him, which seemed to surprise him.

“Some of Grandpa’s things were in storage here,” Pepper said, buttoning the flannel halfway up his chest and holding him still to admire him. “It’s not too bad, I was worried it’d be too big.”

She saw his throat bob, and she looked up from his chest to his face, where he seemed to be wrangling with some strange mix of emotions.

“Shane?” 

He let out a breath, closed his eyes, like it was a practiced maneuver. “I’m okay,” he said, and when his eyes opened again, he was. “This was your grandpa’s?”

Pepper nodded. “I know it’s not _nice_ nice, but you were worried about…” she trailed off, running a soft hand down the line of buttons on his chest.

He laughed, and it was almost a sigh. “How’d someone as _good_ as you end up with me?” 

“I’m persistent,” she told him.

It wasn’t the first time Shane stood up on his toes to take her face and kiss her, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last.

+++

Shane was still messing with his hair when they stepped off the bus, and she looped an arm through his to keep him from fidgeting too much.

“She’s nothing like me,” Pepper was murmuring, speaking so that he didn’t have to worry about anything more than he already was. “I mean, I guess I’m nothing like her. I was always more like Dad.”

“Tell me about him,” Shane prompted (as if he’d picked up on her calming tactic).

“He was funny, and always kind,” Pepper said, eyes drifting upward to the sparse city starscape. “He always wanted to pull over to help people broken down on the side of the road. He told me to always be kind to anyone, no matter how they treat you, because they could be having the worst day of their lives.” 

Pepper felt him squeezing her hand. “Guess that’s why you stuck around for me, huh?” he asked, smirking.

She shrugged, but the smile she kept for him snuck slowly onto her lips. “I followed you the first day we met.”

Shane blinked several times into their silence. “What?”

“I followed you to JojaMart.” She realized how strange it must sound (and out of nowhere, to boot), and tried to elaborate. “You didn’t even say hi to me. I guess I wanted to know why.”

Shane dropped his eyes and watched their feet, and they walked in silence for almost a full block.

“I was…” he started, and his speech stalled to a halt. He pressed his lips into a pale line, and he tried again. “I only got to the valley a few months before you did. They’d only been gone six months. Amy and Ryan.” He took a long breath through his nose. “I guess I thought that if I stayed to myself and didn’t make any friends, I wouldn’t have to worry about losing anyone, anymore.”

She could hardly believe that he was telling her as much as he was. Her thoughts were still stranded in the spring, on the pier, in the dark, drinking and listening to the lapping water (with the man who’d barely looked at her that was suddenly, sloppily baring his soul).

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” Shane asked, back from his dark inward turn and looking softly at her.

“For letting me in.”

Whereas the apartments Pepper had shown him the last time they were together in the city were big samey gray slabs, the neighborhood that Pepper’s mother lived in was swanky in comparison. The apartments were thin, but tall—thick iron gates stood sentinels in front of heavy oak doors with huge brass knockers. By the time they’d come to the neighborhood, the sun had gone down, and the soft yellow streetlights turned the neat street-side snowbanks into glittering hills.

“Do you knock? Or do I knock?” Shane asked, leaning into her and whispering, like he was afraid to be heard in this quiet, pristine place in the middle of the city.

“I’ll knock,” Pepper answered, but she tugged him forward by the hand he’d linked inextricably from hers. “But come with me.”

Shane took a hard breath, hopped on the balls of his feet once or twice, and then nodded.

Mrs. Angela Rodriguez answered the door, and Pepper immediately regretted coming.

Her mother had dressed like she was going to the most elite party in Zuzu City—little black dress, two strings of pearls, with her thick black hair expertly piled and stuck with a thousand pins. She already had a glass of red wine in one hand, the other hand wearing all of her glittering rings.

“Pepperoni!” her mother cried, hauling her daughter into a thin-boned hug (almost off-handed; a courtesy). “Don’t you just look fit?” She cocked a hip, smirking at Shane. “And this is your little beau?”

Shane was too busy laughing to realize that he was under scrutiny. “ _Pepperoni_?” he wheezed, grinning almost too wide for his face. “Oh, you know I’m stealing that.”

But Pepper’s normally expressive, open face was tight and stoic. “Hi, Mom,” she said. A well-practiced false smile pressed onto Pepper’s lips. “This is Shane.”

Shane’s laughter had petered off, seeing and hearing the severe change in Pepper, and he’d been shocked into confused silence by the time he held out his hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said (though the way his eyebrows were drawing down his face, he wasn’t really sure if it was).

“You can call me Angela, dear,” she told him, as if she were trying to make her voice sound deeper than it was. “Please, come in; have some wine.” She sauntered away, and neither of them missed the gargantuan, painful-looking heels she was sporting.

“Wow,” Shane murmured, leaning into Pepper as they stepped inside. 

“I think that about sums her up,” Pepper sighed. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Well,” he thought, losing his train of thought for a moment as they left the foyer and walked into a gaudy dining room. “Free food, right?”

Finally, Pepper’s smile returned, and she squeezed his hand.

“You _have_ to tell me all about your grandfather’s farm,” Pepper’s mother said, pouring very full glasses of red wine for both of them. “When I was abroad, I visited a beautiful old vineyard and couldn’t help but worry about you rolling around in the dirt all on your own.”

“It’s doing fine,” Pepper said, immediately taking a long gulp of wine. It must have been expensive, because she hated it. “I’m raising chickens.”

Angela laughed, very loud (too loud). “Oh, that’s _so_ you, Pepperoni.” She leaned toward Shane, who instinctively leaned away. “She was always bringing home little rodents she found in the gutter, or some mangy cat off the street. She’s so like her father, you know.”

“He was a veterinarian,” Pepper murmured, demolishing her wine. Shane glanced at her, and then followed her example.

“A bleeding heart, honestly,” Angela said, topping off all three wine glasses. “He hardly had time for me—for _us_ —with all of his charity cases.” And the way her eyes lingered on Shane with those last words, it became a very clear indication of just who she thought a charity case was.

Pepper’s face had gathered a very good collection of dark storm clouds, but before she could say anything, her mother had risen from her chair.

“I’ll go get the appetizers, you two just sit and I’ll be right back.” She clicked off toward the kitchen, small steps to accommodate her heels.

“Holy shit,” Shane whispered, leaning close. “You’re _related_?”

“She didn’t used to be this bad,” Pepper told him. “But since Dad died, everything has to be about her, somehow, even if it means taking other people down. If I ever get married, she’ll be there in a white dress.” She anchored her elbows in the table and buried her face in her hands. 

“If you get married,” Shane echoed, and she broke into terse giggles at the sideways grin on his face.

The night literally dragged. Every time Pepper looked up at the clock, it seemed to be running backwards. They were both deep into their third glass of wine, and with the miserable offerings her mother called appetizers all that she had in her stomach, she was already fighting back a tipsy feeling. Somehow, Shane was managing to keep a straight face through it all.

Her mother was going on about some older man she’d met at some benefit, how he’d advised her to invest in silver rather than gold or some other nonsense—which somehow turned into implications of how old Shane was (with some phrases like ‘robbing the cradle’ coming up, always followed by her mother’s jilted, tittering laughter). 

Maybe Pepper had been too young to understand before, maybe her mother had always been this way. Subtly selfish, sneakily condescending.

“You must tell me where you found that _shirt_ ,” Angela murmured to Shane, and as a confidential aside to her daughter (perfectly loud for everyone to hear, really not confidential at all), she added: “These days, charity shop fashion is _all_ the rage.”

Shane’s face drained, but Pepper’s was full of fight and blood. “It was Grandpa’s,” Pepper interjected.

“Oh,” Angela clucked. “That’s so sweet of you, Pepperoni.”

“It’s not _sweet_ ,” Pepper hissed. (Shane’s eyes seemed to indicate that maybe it was, a little bit.) 

“Sweetheart,” Angela cooed, a look of pity forming on her features, “no need to get in a huff. Really, I’m pleased that you wanted him to impress me.” She stood before Pepper could retort, waving a manicured hand at the two of them and heading back to the kitchen.

“I want to leave,” Shane said suddenly. 

Pepper’s head snapped up to look at him, and she almost smacked her forehead for missing every part of him that was screaming, anxious. He was board-straight, pale, and the hand that she didn’t have laced together with her own was tight in a fist and shaking. She bolted up out of her chair, gripping his hand and pulling him up with her.

“I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry,” she whispered. “It’s okay,” she added, squeezing his shoulder and stepping in close. “It’s okay, we can go.”

“Go?” her mother’s voice came from the kitchen doorway, a casserole dish in her hands. She laughed, humorless—she looked like she thought she’d _won_ somehow. “Oh, Pepperoni, is he sick? Or is he… you know…” She made a strange motion with her face, indicating some sort of vague and (to her) disgusting disorder. And everything inside of Pepper caught on fire.

“Stop it,” she said, and the words were heavy and dark and sharp. “Just _stop_ it. You think I need your approval,” Pepper went on despite the affronted look on her mother’s face. “But I don’t.”

She tugged Shane along with her, keeping them tight together against the tide of the shrill browbeating calling after them. Pepper shut the door, but didn’t slam it. She wasn’t rude.

They were a block and a half away before Pepper let herself slow down. The adrenaline and the wine were not good bedfellows, and she felt a little woozy. But she ignored it in favor of pulling Shane into her and just holding him there.

“I can’t really breathe,” he murmured after a long moment. She loosened her grip, but only just.

“This was the worst idea,” Pepper said, throat tight as she buried her face in Shane’s hair. “I’m so sorry. I thought maybe… she’d be okay with some else there, but she was _worse_ and…” She slowly eased up her hold on him until she was looking him in the face. “Are you okay?”

He was shaking his head. “Something _is_ wrong with me, Pepper. I can’t sit through a dinner without having to run away.” He’d had more wine than her, almost outpacing her by a whole glass, and it was showing in the red glow on his face. “I don’t want you to have to take care of me the rest of your life,” he grumbled, pressing a hand hard to his face. He made a harsh, self-loathing little noise. “I wish I could _function_ , just get through one night without…” He gestured wildly at himself. “… _this_ happening.”

“She was being intolerable,” Pepper told him. “And until she apologizes to you, I’m not going to talk to her.”

Shane laughed miserably, but she took his face in both of her hands and made him look at her.

“She was wrong. You’re not a charity case, and you’re not…” Even the memory of the faces her mother had made turned Pepper’s blood on fire again. “Whatever she thinks is _wrong_ with you… she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

She kissed him firmly, let him sink into her. And then she squared him to her again. 

“You’re Shane, and I love you exactly the way you are.”

There were exhausted tears shining in his eyes, and he looked away, laughing the tension out. “I still have a hard time believing that,” he told her, voice rough.

She kissed him again, and this one lasted for a very long time. Slow, searching, soothing, a little sad, but full of warmth and love.

Shane broke away first. “Do you just wanna go home and have lots of sex?” he asked her, deflating with a long exhalation and grinning weakly up at her.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “Definitely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the delay, folks, i was at a pre-thanksgiving feast with the husband's parents. but now i am stuffed.... with ideas! plenty more to come in the Adventures of Farmer Pepper! thanks for sticking with me!


	23. cohabitation

Winter came in full force that week. Pepper slogged through inches of snow to her coop, making sure the hens were safe and there were no cracks in the structure. She walked Shane to the bus stop on the weekend, kissing him warmly before he left for his appointment in Zuzu City (he told her that he almost didn’t want to leave, but she said she’d make it worth his while when he got back).

He showed up covered in snowflakes and shivering late that night, and she kissed the warmth back into him.

She realized, after another week of this new routine, that Shane was living with her. Not in as many words—he hadn’t moved in any furniture or anything, but he had a designated spot for his toothbrush and shower things; more than just a single change of his clothes had made it into her drawers; her fridge had several microwave dinners he’d brought over and they’d shared on the sofa, watching movies into the small hours of the morning.

Every now and then, she’d wake up to an empty bed. But she usually found him in the shower, or trying desperately to make breakfast while not burning the place down, or (on one spectacular occasion) shoveling the snow off of her porch and front walkway.

“Hi, Pepper,” he would say with a too-big smile on those mornings, and he would have to fight off her shower of kisses.

He was seated on her bed one Wednesday night in the middle of winter, chewing absently on the end of a pen and working on the crossword in the light of the fireplace. She flopped down in the bed beside him, almost throwing him off the other side.

“Hey,” she started, wriggling up to his side and perching her head on his knee.

“Hi,” he said, that sideways grin she loved taking a seat on his face. He threaded his fingers through her hair and glared seriously down at the crossword.

“I was thinking that you should move in with me,” she said very plainly (like she always did).

There was a little shock that ran through him, and his hand skittered out of her hair. She flipped onto her back to peer up at him, and he looked even more confused from this angle.

“What?” he asked—why he asked for clarification from her anymore was a mystery to both of them.

“You’re here most nights, anyway,” she said, folding her hands on her stomach. “If you’re not at the ranch that much anymore… Well, it would save you on rent.”

Upside-down Shane let out a long breath, looking down at her (crossword forgotten) and smoothing the hair back from her forehead.

“You’re serious?”

“I don’t think I’d ask you if I wasn’t.” She smiled up at him; something in her loved seeing him flustered (maybe the way it made his whole face go red).

“Well, I…” he trailed off, and his fingers were back to slowly running through her hair, almost like it calmed him. “I don’t know…”

And then he worried his lip between his teeth.

“Jas,” he said, dropping it solemnly into their midst.

Pepper righted herself out of his lap, and suddenly her face was just as foggy and dejected. “Right,” she murmured.

“It’s not that I—” he started back in. “I would, Pepper. I just… I know I don’t spend enough time with her, already, and she’s had it pretty rough for a kid, and… I don’t know if I can just leave her.”

Pepper placed a hand on his chest, and they fell into a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable, but definitely wasn’t as peaceful as they’d been minutes before.

She wandered through her thoughts that evening, long after Shane had fallen asleep and filled the house with his deep-lung breathing. 

Pepper was in love with Shane. There was no real question there. But what if this wasn’t where her life was going? What if (Emily almost spoke into her ear) her destiny was somewhere else, _with_ someone else? She watched his chest rise and fall in the darkness, leaned heavily on her arm, and just listened to him.

This time, it was Shane that woke up to an empty bed. Pepper hadn’t slept, not really. She’d had rest in fits, but had finally pulled herself out of bed and curled up on the sofa in the living room by herself.

Shane wandered out a little past sunrise, still shirtless but stuffed into a pair of oversize pajama pants, scratching at his arm and searching for her. He came to a halt in front of the sofa, and she looked up blankly at him.

“Pep…” he started, and he must have seen the bags under her eyes, because he sighed and said: “Scooch up.”

She pulled her knees up closer to her, and he settled onto the sofa.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked, eyebrows pinching on his forehead.

“No,” she said softly, rubbing at one of her eyes.

“Was I snoring too loud?”

She giggled, light and easy, and it brightened his face up, too.

“Well,” he began, leaning over to wrangle her into his arms, trapping her in an embrace. “You can tell _me_ anything, too.”

She leaned hard on his shoulder. “I just can’t stop thinking.”

“About last night?” he asked. 

She nodded. “I’m really serious,” she added, tilting her head to look up at him. “About… about _us_.”

“I am, too,” he murmured, thumb running a quiet marathon on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, okay? We’ll figure something out.”

“I guess,” she sighed, and she leaned up to peck a small kiss on his chin. “I’m having dinner with Sam and Jodi tonight, is that okay?”

“Like I could stop you,” he grumbled, feigning jealousy for only a moment before she poked him in the ribs (when she’d found out how ticklish he was, he’d been affronted for almost a whole day at the loss of some perceived machismo). He fought off a laugh, levering up off the couch before she could get at him any more. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then, Pepperoni.” 

“Hm,” she hummed pleasantly. “It’s almost cute, when _you_ say it.”

+++

Pepper needed advice. She wasn’t usually one to go hiding, tail between her legs, with no idea of what she should be running in. But she had friends, and even if they weren’t good with advice, she could talk to a friend. So that was what she did. She swirled the tea in her cup, looking seriously down into it and sighing. Marnie reached across the table and squeezed her wrist.

“Jas is a… very sensitive subject with him,” Marnie said, taking a drink of her own tea. “I know your heart’s in the right place, Pepper. And I’m sure he does, too.”

She was right, of course. She’d be stupid to think Shane wasn’t madly in love with her (even if she didn’t see that goofy, sideways, syrupy grin on his face almost every morning, he told her often enough for it to be a mantra). But this was a big step. Was their relationship still too young to be thinking about something this serious?

Pepper finished the last of her drink. It met a strong determination that was bubbling up out of her chest. Yes, the relationship was young; _she_ was young. Just young and reckless enough to throw everything into a decision she made with the entirety of her heart. Marnie had definitely seen it (her eyes were shining). 

Pepper knocked on Jas’s door, and the little girl told her to come in.

“Good evening, Jas,” Pepper said, kneeling to the floor and smiling openly.

“Good evening, Miss Pepper,” Jas replied, a small smile coming to her face. “You want to talk to me, don’t you?”

Pepper nodded, smiling at the doll Jas handed to her. “You know that I love Shane very much, don’t you?”

Jas’s smile blossomed, and something melted in Pepper’s heart. “I know that he likes you a lot,” she said, picking up one of her dolls and brushing its hair.

“And…” Pepper fought a growing blockage in her throat. “You know he loves _you_ very much.”

Jas nodded, but her smile was dropping.

“Is something wrong, Miss Pepper?”

She took a loud breath. “I don’t ever want to take him away from you,” she said, though most of the strength had left her.

Jas was very smart for her age, and at times she was too serious for a little girl. She scooted along the carpet until she was right beside Pepper, and she took Pepper’s hand in one of hers. 

“Do you want him to live with you instead of living with Aunt Marnie?” Jas asked.

Pepper nodded. She hadn’t even made up her mind about what she was going to say, but the moment seized her, and suddenly, she’d decided. She must have been feeling very brave (aside from the clawing sadness in her throat), because she said: “Only if you came with him. We could share.”

She heard Marnie’s front door open, the howling of the wind barreling into the house for just a moment, and then slam shut again.

“Marnie,” she heard Shane’s muffled voice. “Pepper’s not at Sam’s or her house, is she…?”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but Pepper heard his footsteps moving toward Jas’s room. Jas was up on her feet and bolted across the floor, catching him in the middle as soon as he’d moved into the door frame.

“Hey, squirt,” he said cheerfully, grinning and scooping her up into his arms with a grunt of effort. “Jeez, you’re getting big.”

Jas grabbed both sides of Shane’s face, making him look at her—his eyes, though wide, focused seriously on her (despite the way her little hands squished his face into a less-than-serious configuration).

“Shane, can we move to Pepper’s house?” she asked, her eyes huge and shining.

Pepper had a hand over her mouth, trying to keep the feelings swirling in her stomach from lurching up. Especially at the way Shane looked at her (confusion, disbelief, love). He set Jas on her feet, and he came slowly to sit on the ground beside Pepper.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Pepper murmured, looking very hard at the carpet. “I’m sorry, I got her hopes up before we even talked about it—”

“But you mean it, though,” Shane prodded. “You want… us?”

Pepper nodded, and the serious look in her eyes faded into that soft adoration that she saved for him. 

He kissed her, strong and wonderful, right there on the floor of Jas’s room. He only stopped when Jas jumped him, arms around his neck from behind.

Jas planted a kiss on the top of Shane’s head, and then she moved to Pepper and did the same for her. 

Pepper tried very hard not to cry (but she did anyway).

+++

It may have been cold outside, but Pepper was sweating. Robin called for her hammer, and Pepper reached across the pile of wood to hand it to her.

“I’m glad you called me in,” Robin said once she’d hammered her nails in. “It’s a nice little cottage, but it needs some serious love.”

What had once been a side room for firewood and tools was slowly taking shape into what Pepper was affectionately calling ‘the guest room’. But there was no mistaking whose room it would be. It took up the space on the opposite side of the house from Pepper’s room. It would be a little smaller than the room she’d had at Marnie’s, but Jas had already made a circuit of the place and declared where her bed would go.

“Lunch, ladies,” Shane called, stepping over Robin’s toolbox to present the microwaved pepper poppers to the women with a flourish.

“Hey, cutie,” Pepper murmured, smiling when she leaned down for a kiss. 

“Really?” He was blushing. “In front of Robin?”

“What, is she gonna tell on us?” Pepper laughed, snatching a popper from the plate.

He huffed, playing off his grin.

The renovation took the better part of twelve days, with Robin doing most of the work and Pepper helping where she could. Shane took care of the hens, and had even enlisted help from Sam and Sebastian to move his and Jas’s things into Pepper’s house. Abigail played with Jas, swinging sticks like they were swords and giggling in the empty fields.

Some nights, Pepper would come into the bedroom after her shower looking for a pair of arms to fall asleep in, only to find those arms occupied. She’d lean on the door frame, just for a moment, to watch the pair of them sleeping (and sometimes Jas was still awake, reading silently while her godfather snored beside her, and Pepper quietly snuck away to the sofa).

It was the night before the Feast of the Winter Star when they were all officially living under one roof. Pepper, who was the strongest of the three of them, lifted Jas up onto her shoulders to put the star on top of the tree.

“What are you thankful for, squirt?” Shane asked, craning his neck to look up at her.

Jas thought about it very seriously for a moment. “My new room at Pepper’s house,” she said, nodding. “Maybe that Shane didn’t make dinner.”

Pepper’s eyes scrunched up when she broke into laughter, but even that didn’t wipe the look off of Shane’s face. 

“Well, maybe it’s time to get off to your new room for tonight,” Pepper said, hoisting Jas down to her feet again. “If you want to make sure you get your presents tomorrow.”

A serious look flashed in Jas’s eyes, and she nodded firmly. She was off to bed without another word (but being sure to stand on her toes for a hug from both Shane and Pepper before she dashed off).

Shane breathed out like he’d been holding it in for days. “Well,” he began, but he didn’t have an ending.

Pepper took a seat on the sofa, and he settled in beside her. Snow pelted the windows of her house—or was it _their_ house now?—and the only light came from the tree. They sat together in silence for what seemed like hours, watching the snow and listening to the wind sing against the side of the cottage.

“It means so much to her,” Shane said, keeping his voice low. “She really likes you. And… and I didn’t spend enough time with her before, and…” He sighed, and instead just leaned into her and planted a kiss at the hollow of her jaw. “I love you, Pepper,” he murmured against the skin of her neck.

She held him there, kissing the top of his head. “I love you, Shane.”


	24. winter star

Shane had one of Jas’s hands, Pepper had the other, and the girl dangled between them, legs kicking as she swung. The day of the Feast of the Winter Star was clear and sunny, but still cold and biting, so the three of them had bundled up generously. Shane was swimming in his puffy brown coat, and Pepper must have had more than three layers on. Jas had Pepper’s big red scarf around her neck.

The town square was home to the biggest spread of food that Pepper had ever seen. They were still early for the festivities, but they weren’t the first there. Gus, of course, was still checking up on his delectables, and Evelyn was aiding him by adding a few casserole dishes of her own with the help of her strapping grandson. Alex looked up and waved when he saw them.

Against all odds, they’d all become friends. Once he’d realized that both Pepper and Shane were gridball fans—and that Shane had even played in high school—he’d invited all of them over on Sundays to watch the games (his TV was bigger than Pepper’s). Shane cheered even louder than Alex, and Pepper just laughed at the both of them.

“Hey,” Alex said, grinning when he’d finished helping his grandmother. “Hi, Jas,” he said kindly to the little girl between them.

“Hello,” she said, suddenly tentative. She half-hid behind Shane.

Alex squatted down close to the ground, flashing a grin up at Pepper before he revealed a present wrapped in bright blue paper. “Hey, I’m your gift giver this year,” he told Jas, holding the present out with one hand.

Jas uttered a small gasp, and she darted forward to take the gift out of Alex’s hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered, clutching it close to her heart and scooting back to her spot behind Shane.

Alex was laughing when he stood again, rubbing one of his arms nervously. “I have no idea what kids like.” He eased back into himself with a smirk. “How’s everything on the farm?”

“Really good,” Pepper said, squeezing Shane’s hand.

It was Shane that watched Alex go, and by the time they were seated (Jas already working on the wrapping paper on her gift), he was lost in thought and far away.

“Sam told me,” Shane started, and then he stopped, changed his wording, and started again. “It came up, I mean. That you had a crush on Alex.”

Pepper looked up at him like he’d pinched her. Her face made it impossible to lie (but she wouldn’t have, anyway). “I did, but that was… a while ago.”

Shane laughed, a little bitterly. “Yeah, I can see why. Big beefy guy like that. _Tall_.”

“Shane,” she cut him off from his rather flattering Alex-themed ramble. “I had a crush on _you_ , too, you big dummy.” She nudged him affectionately with her elbow.

He had a far-off, dazed kind of look, like he’d never even considered it. Like one day she’d just decided to sleep with him out of the blue. A silly grin blossomed on her face, just thinking about it.

Shane finally let out a long, heavy sigh. “Why the hell would you pick _me_?”

Pepper’s eyes softened. “Because you’re kind, and you’re sweet, even if you don’t want anyone else to know.” She leaned in to kiss him at the temple. “Plus, I think you’re kinda cute.”

He released a weird little laugh, palming his face. “At least I’ve got that going for me, I guess,” he murmured, and when she leaned in to kiss him properly, he didn’t stop her.

It was almost an hour later before Leah appeared in town, shivering under a thin but pretty coat and looking about for a place to sit. Pepper plucked Jas from her lap and transferred her to Shane, who trapped the girl in a fierce hug (Jas squealing and wiggling to escape, but smiling).

“Hi, Pepper,” Leah said, smiling through a cloud of her own breath. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

Pepper laughed, and they just savored the mirth for a moment. 

“I’m um,” Pepper started, and she fished around in her bag until she found the box she was looking for. “I’m your gift-giver.”

“Oh!” Leah’s face brightened. “Thank you.”

“You haven’t looked inside yet,” Pepper laughed nervously. “You might want to take that thanks back.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” Leah told her, and before she knew it, Pepper had been swept up in a hug. “Anyway, even if it’s not, it’s the thought that counts, right?”

“I hope so,” Pepper said with a small smile. Leah finally let her go and started unwrapping the gift.

Inside the box was a small dish wrapped in foil, and it was still warm despite the chill outside.

“I’m not much of a cook, but I know how much you like the berries in the valley so I… made a cobbler?” The end of her sentence curled up into a question unbidden, and Pepper dropped her eyes quickly.

Leah was laughing, and she squeezed Pepper’s arm to let her know that it wasn’t at her expense. “I’ll save it for dessert tonight, after I recover from Gus’s feast.”

“If I’d known how much food was going to be here—” Pepper started, shifting from foot to foot.

“It’s perfect,” Leah interrupted her. “Thank you, Pepper. Happy Feast!” she added before she was off, heading for a table where Elliot was deep in conversation with Willy.

Only a moment later, Pepper felt arms encircle her from behind and lift her right off her feet (with a loud grunt of effort).

“Hey Peps!” Sam said once he’d set her down (hiding the way his face had gone red from the exertion), slinging an arm around her shoulders and tugging her in for a tight embrace. “How’s it going at the farm?”

“Hi, guys,” Pepper said, smile growing when Abigail and Sebastian joined them. “Sit with us?”

Sebastian shook his head. “I’d love to, believe me. But Mom won’t let me duck out of another family gathering. She might actually kill me.” But he smiled. Something about the cold weather really brought out the softer side he didn’t like to let most people see, but Pepper was used to it by now.

“Same,” Abigail said. “Maybe tomorrow, Pepper. We’re all practicing at Sam’s tomorrow when he gets off work.”

“Pretty sure I’m getting some guitar strings from Mom,” Sam said in a way he must have thought was casual. “Plus, you know, she gets sad when Dad isn’t here for this kind of stuff.”

Pepper never really asked about Sam and Vincent’s father—mostly because of the way it drew down the corners of Sam’s normally grinning mouth. So she just smiled for him and gave him one more long, tight hug in return.

“Okay, see you tomorrow,” she told them.

The day was wearing on, and the sun was quick to set in a burst of brilliant pinks and violets. Pepper felt as if she’d already had three dinners worth of Gus’s food. Marnie sat with them, polishing off her own second plate of food and speaking quietly with Pepper off and on about her new stock of hens. Mayor Lewis stopped by briefly, taking the seat beside Marnie and congratulating Pepper on a very successful first year in the valley (a whole year, Pepper thought in awe; sometimes it felt so short, and the next moment she swore that she’d been here forever). Jas was in Shane’s lap, and together, the two of them were trying to tackle the twist-ties imprisoning the doll Alex had given her.

“Hm,” Pepper murmured out loud, chin in her hand as she surveyed the quiet festivities.

“Hm?” Shane repeated, looking over at her.

“It’s not that I need a present,” Pepper began, and she already felt selfish for bringing it up, backpedaling quickly. “It’s nothing. Are you..?” 

She trailed off, because Shane was grinning at her. He whispered something to Jas, and she nodded, hopping off his lap and moving to Marnie—who handed Jas a box wrapped in old newspaper. Jas handed it off to Shane, who in turn presented it to Pepper.

“I’m your secret gift-giver,” he laughed, especially when Pepper’s mouth dropped open a notch.

It took her a moment, and then she let loose a string of giggles. And she punched him in the shoulder.

“Shane!” she cried. “How’d you keep it a secret so long?”

“Ow,” he muttered, but he was still smiling. “Well, you were so busy with the house, and Jas, and… well, it’s not anything exciting, but…”

She snatched a kiss from him, and before he’d recovered from that, she was working on the old newspaper wrapping.

“Well, I…” Shane started, already trying to explain his gift and unable to finish any of his sentences. “It’s… well, I know you like…”

It was a small tea-set for two, with the logo of the coffee shop in Zuzu City on the teapot. Shane was practically sweating bullets waiting for her assessment, and she smiled across at him knowingly.

“C’mon, say something,” he laughed, leaning one elbow on the table and trying to look like he wasn’t nervous at all.

“It’s perfect,” she told him. And she couldn’t lie to him; he must have known it by now, the way his face seemed to light up from the inside.

+++

Pepper felt Shane stirring in bed beside her, and only a moment later his weight had left the bed completely. She hazily squinted into the darkness at him, and then rolled over. It wasn’t even light outside yet.

Steven meowed loudly once he detected movement, and she was vaguely aware of Shane shushing the cat very quietly.

“Shane?” Pepper finally asked, groggy as she shoved herself up onto one elbow to look at his shape moving in the dark.

He cursed under his breath, and she heard him stumbling in the darkness.

When she turned on the bedside lamp, he was half into his JojaMart uniform, his expression somewhere between guilty and annoyed, with a side of embarrassment.

Pepper allowed an adequate pause for her brain to recognize what it was seeing (before dawn, in the winter, pre-coffee). 

“What are you doing?” It wasn’t accusatory, it wasn’t even angry. She honestly wanted to know what the heck he thought he was doing.

“I’m going to work,” he told her in a way that was almost firm, and he continued hopping into his work pants.

She narrowed her eyes at him (and it took extraordinary strength of will not to close them and fall right back asleep). “Why?”

He was the one to stare at her, then. “Wh—” he started, and the word fell off uselessly in a sigh. “So I can make money. Why do you think?”

“Then why are you trying to sneak away?”

“I wasn’t… _sneaking_ ,” Shane grumbled, though the way it left his mouth, he was most definitely sneaking. “I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“You don’t have to go back there,” she said, quite firmly for a woman who was only a quarter of the way to being awake. “You live here, now, you don’t need the rent.”

He was scrubbing an absent hand through his hair, and his expression pinched into something worried and tight.

“I know,” he started. “But I don’t want… I don’t want to take advantage… I don’t want to be a _leech_ , Pepper.” The tightness on his face was spreading to his voice, to the hand grabbing a fistful of his hair. “I don’t want to sit on my ass while you take care of me.”

“You’re already helping me with the hens,” Pepper told him, and she shifted until she was on the edge of the bed beside him. Not touching him, but close enough, if he needed her. “You can spend more time with Jas.”

A harsh laugh escaped him, and he immediately hated it, plastering a hand over his mouth.

Pepper was on her feet, and he took her up on that offer. She wrapped her arms around him and just held him for a long moment.

“You can go, if that’s what you really want to do,” she said. “But…” she sighed in his ear, and just like that, his shoulders dropped a notch. “Why would you want to do something, _be_ somewhere, that you hate if you don’t _need_ to?”

The breath that left him shook, and he tipped his gaze up to stare right at her.

“You’re really okay with that?” Shane asked.

“You’re a grown-up,” she laughed (and his face split into a smile when she did). “You don’t need my permission.”

He sighed again, and this time it was stronger. “Come with me.”

It was Pepper’s first time in the JojaMart, and she hated as much as she knew she would. It smelled too clean, like disinfectant and bleach, like recirculated air, like it was hiding something.

The man at the front desk was a face Pepper had seen only once, and it was when he’d barged into Pierre’s store and actively stole the patronage of his customers. Now, Pierre wasn’t Pepper’s best friend, but he was a hard-working business owner whose life in the valley depended on that store. 

Pepper didn’t like Morris very much—but she didn’t know if she could hate him. She’d never really hated anyone.

“Shane,” Morris said, smirking. “You’re early, for once. And who’s this young lady?”

A wild, almost juvenile look seized Shane’s face, and he whipped the hat off of his head and flung it at Morris (who was too surprised to even attempt to catch it).

“I quit,” he said, and immediately burst into bright laughter. “I quit!”

“I… What?” Morris croaked, ire bright pink and spreading on his face.

“You can take your shitty job and _shove_ it, Morris!” Shane proclaimed, fighting with the unflattering blue Joja apron and dropping it unceremoniously to the floor.

The few customers who were in the store this early were starting to look—and even Sam had lifted one of the cups of his headphones so he could listen in from the aisle he was supposed to be mopping.

“I’m done with this demeaning, soul-sucking asshole of a job,” Shane barreled on, unbuttoning his work shirt (Pepper’d had the foresight to make him put a t-shirt on underneath, thank Yoba), “because I’ve got the _best_ damn girlfriend, and the world’s most adorable goddaughter, and you’re never gonna see my face again, Morris!”

When Shane turned to face Pepper, she was ready with a wide grin and open arms. He moved right in and kissed her.

Somewhere far away, Pepper was aware of Sam cheering.

+++

“That felt… _so_ good,” Shane said for what must have been the fifth time since they’d left the store behind them.

“Good,” Pepper added, barely able to feel her fingers through his vice grip. 

“All this weight is gone, you know?” he continued, hand on his chest. “It’s just that…” And he stopped talking, and then he stopped walking. They stood in silence on the north bridge, and Pepper let him have that moment. 

He turned to her, but he couldn’t look her right in the eye.

“Everything’s going right,” he said, but there was a twinge of something distant and sad in his voice. “For once in my life, I feel like nothing’s wrong. So I’m just wondering when the bottom’s gonna drop out.”

Pepper cocked her head at him, but he would have gone on even if she hadn’t.

“When you’re gonna get sick of me, when Jas is too cool to spend time with her deadbeat godfather, when…” 

He finally did trail off, because Pepper had his face in her hands, just looking down at him with a slow, sappy smile (he mirrored it without thinking).

“I’m really happy,” he told her, “but I know that I’m… _me_ , and not every day is gonna feel that way. So I just want you to know, even when I’m an asshole, or I don’t want to get out of bed, or I go a whole day without talking—I’m really happy.”

They stood together on the bridge for some time, watching the ice melt and break away.

“I could make up some drama to make you feel worse,” Pepper murmured into his hair, kissing him soundly.

“Hm,” Shane laughed. 

“I’m pregnant, and Emily’s the father,” she went on, giggling.

Shane broke into a short line of laughter.

“My mom’s coming to live with us.”

He almost choked. “Okay, too far, joke cancelled.”

They sat in on The Pelicans’ practice in Sam’s room that afternoon, snacking on the pizza Pepper had brought in, tapping their toes in synch, and grinning sideways at each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we're coming up on the end of these adventures, soon. but I have more in store for Farmer Pepper! stay tuned for news of a new fic coming soon to an internet near you!


	25. new beginnings

Pepper was never sick. It was a well-chronicled fact. When she went into Harvey’s clinic for her yearly examination on her birthday, he asked seriously if she was trying to avoid him (or if she had something against doctors in general, seeing as her medical record was spotless). She laughed, and then he laughed, too.

But now, Pepper was sick. She hadn’t been able to sleep the whole night through the nausea, and hadn’t kept her breakfast down too long. Shane made her go to the clinic, and took Jas to the playground beside the old community center to wait for her—the weather was warming, and green was starting to bud in the trees surrounding Pelican Town.

Harvey held Pepper’s wrist, taking note of her pulse in the silence.

“I’m speaking as your doctor,” he said, looking seriously at her over the top of his glasses, “so don’t take this the wrong way, Pepper. But is there _any way_ you could be pregnant?”

Come to think of it, Pepper thought as the blood drained from her face, there were several days worth of ways she could be pregnant.

“I have a few tests I could run to be sure,” Harvey told her, hand on her arm. 

She nodded stiffly.

When she left the clinic and found Shane and Jas, she didn’t feel like herself. She felt far away, drifting, even when Jas grabbed her in a hug and Shane asked how she felt. She didn’t say anything at first, locked eyes with him, and felt something tighten in her chest. 

“I want to go home,” she said quietly.

Shane’s face fell, but he didn’t argue.

Pepper sat in bed alone for an hour. Listened to Shane getting Jas ready for her lesson with Penny, the sound of the TV, the birds starting to stir outside her window. Spring would be here, soon. It was the start of a whole new year. A whole year on Grandpa’s farm. A year in Stardew Valley, with her new friends, and her new life.

She squeezed her eyes closed. She’d have to tell him eventually.

When Shane came through the front door and shrugged out of his coat, he looked up to find Pepper curled up on the sofa. 

“Hey,” he said, moving up to her and kissing the top of her head. “Feeling better?”

“I need to talk to you,” she said abruptly, then bit her lip at her tone. Everything inside of her felt different, even the way her voice was coming out of her. Shane noticed. He took a seat beside her, eyebrows pressing lower on his face.

“Okay,” he said, and his voice sounded dry.

It took hours for her to buck up her courage. At least, it felt that long.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, and it turned like a bunch of hot rocks in her stomach. 

It didn’t seem to register on Shane’s face. She stared piteously at him, worrying her hands into a fierce knot in her lap. He was just _looking_ at her.

“Shane.” Her voice felt raw, a little strangled and too hot in her throat.

She looked down to find that Shane had wrangled her hands loose of one another and fit his own in between them, holding on hard.

And then he laughed—not derisive, not harsh; crystal clear and _happy_.

“I—I thought I did something wrong,” he started in, letting out a long breath in a continuing string of wonderful laughter. “I thought you were breaking up with me. Oh, holy _shit!_ I’m sorry,” he added, fingers raking his hair back out of his eyes. “I didn’t mean…” His smile faltered. “Pepper?”

He held a hand to her face, thumb wiping away the tears there. 

“Woah, Pep… What’s wrong?” he breathed, happiness gone almost as quickly as it had bubbled up.

Her face couldn’t decide whether she was happy or upset, and it did a hideous dance between the two before it turned down into sadness. A hiccup of a sob left her, and she ducked quickly down into Shane, wet eyes shut and hiding in the crook of his neck.

“Hey,” Shane murmured, an unsure hand fluttering near the back of her neck. “Hey, Pepperoni—” (She gave a pitiful laugh at that one.) “Talk to me.”

“I’m so worried,” Pepper said after a long moment. She pulled back just enough to look at him. “Shane, what if Jas hates it? What if Jas thinks we hate _her?_ She…” New tears spilled out of her, and everything was tight and painful in her chest, in her head and her stomach. “I know I’m not her mom…”

“Don’t do that,” Shane said, and it cut cleanly into her thoughts and stopped her sobbing like he’d put a kink in a hose. His eyes were sad; they were knowing. “Yeah, we’re not her real parents, but… but we love her, right?”

Pepper nodded tightly.

“She’s a smart kid,” Shane told her, pulling the sleeve of his sweater up and clearing her face of all evidence of tears. “She knows we do.”

She sniffled, and then the tears were gone. Her lip still trembled, but with a firm press of her mouth into a strong line and a squaring of her jaw, that was over, too. Her lips quirked up once into a thin smile, and then a sad little laugh leaked out of her.

He laughed again, and when Pepper’s eyes asked, he answered: “I’m usually the one that needs talking down.”

Pepper punched him weakly in the shoulder, and he still rubbed at it in an offended way, but they were both smiling at each other, now. 

“A baby?” Shane asked, as if he’d been unsure until that moment. 

“A baby,” Pepper sighed, letting go with a lopsided smile.

“Holy shit,” he laughed again, fitting his face into his hand and just giggling there.

+++

Jas looked between the two of them, fiddling with her hem of her dress and trying not to look like she’d done something bad.

“Am I in trouble?” she asked softly.

“No way,” Shane said, and he tugged her up into his lap. “Listen, Pepper and I have something important to say, okay?”

Jas nodded, and her guilty look fled, replaced by a serious expression. “We’re not moving again?”

Pepper shook her head, exchanging a look with Shane. He gave her a nod. “Jas, we’re going to have a baby.”

The girl stared, and then, once she’d comprehended, her eyes shot wide. She looked from Shane, to Pepper, to Pepper’s stomach, and then to Shane again.

“That makes you a big sister, squirt,” Shane cajoled her, poking the girl in the ribs until she burst into laughter and squirmed away.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Jas whispered, her ear pressed inquisitively to Pepper’s stomach.

“It’s too early to tell,” Pepper told her, grinning across at Shane, expecting to find a like expression on his face. 

But his eyes were soft on the two of them, leaning an elbow on the back of the sofa and just watching the two of them—proud, maybe; or contented.

Jas’s head snapped up, looking Pepper seriously in the eye. “When are you getting married?”

Shane’s look dissolved immediately into blind panic. Pepper couldn’t stop laughing.

+++

She was two months pregnant, out in the rain and fishing on the north bridge in the early weeks of spring. Shane had come up to her, looking like he might have been sweating if the rain weren’t coming down in buckets around them.

“You should have an umbrella,” he said, raising his voice over the noise.

She just smiled down at him, which made his face contort into something even more nervous.

“What’s up?” she asked, reeling in her line and leaning the pole up against the bridge.

“Well, I thought,” he started, leaning on the stone wall of the bridge like that might help him look more casual (it didn’t). “Maybe. Um.”

His eyes dropped, then squeezed shut for a moment (almost like he was in pain). Then he nodded sharply, let out a tight breath, and reached into the collar of his shirt. He uncoiled something from around his neck, pulling it over his head and holding it out to her like a sacred offering.

“Thought we might make it official,” he said, voice tight and afraid.

It was a pendant made from a shining blue shell. When Pepper didn’t immediately react, Shane’s face went pale, and he clutched the pendant close to his chest. His mouth dropped open to say something, closed again (very tightly), and then he blushed. 

“Are you proposing to me, Shane?” Pepper asked, and suddenly her eyes were shining—like two small stars on her face.

“Maybe,” he said, staring up at her, suddenly embarrassed and defensive.

Pepper’s fingers touched his, and he tentatively released his death grip on the pendant. She examined it with a soft eye, her broad shoulders dipping in wonder as she took it from him. 

“It’s so beautiful,” she said quietly, barely audible over the rain. And then her frame shook with unheard laughter, and Shane flushed even further. “I’ve only _read_ about mermaid pendants, I’ve never seen… in real life…”

“So,” Shane cut in urgently (almost more nervous than she’d ever seen him), “is that… I mean, does that mean…?”

She kissed him there, on that bridge, in the rain, and slid the pendant over her head and around her neck. Maybe they were crying, maybe it was the rain, neither were sure (or seemed to care).

“We’re not…” Shane started (clutching at her hands almost too tightly), his face a fight between elation and nerves. “We’re not doing this all wrong, are we?”

“What d’you mean?” Pepper asked.

“I’m just… I feel like I’m gonna mess something up,” he laughed, a little manic. “Like you said yes just because I got you pregnant, or something. Or… you feel sorry for—”

She kissed him again. “I said yes because I love you,” she said softly. 

And they did get married. Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost at the end... i know this one's a bit short, but i wanted the wedding to stand on its own. am i rushing the end a bit? maybe, but i didn't want it to drag more than i'm afraid of sprinting at the end. i've already started work on the next fic, and i believe there's two more chapters of this one left. have fun, stay awesome!


	26. the wedding

It was two days before the Flower Dance, a chilly spring morning that buzzed with the promise of later warmth. Pepper was up even earlier than usual, checking on the hens and watering what scanty plants she could get to grow. The sun was barely up, touching the budding leaves of her trees and giving them a soft, golden halo. She was already sweating.

“Pepper!” Jas called from the porch, on her tiptoes and leaning out over the stairs like she was afraid to go down. “I can’t find my slippers!”

Pepper took the porch steps two at a time and swept Jas off her bare feet. “They’d just get all muddy, anyway. Let’s find your blue ones!”

“The blue ones are already muddy,” Jas murmured, ducking her head down in shame. “I just want to look pretty for your wedding.”

“Well, you’re already pretty,” Pepper assured her, kissing the top of her head before setting her down. “So don’t worry about it.”

Jas lit up, and rushed back inside to find some different shoes. 

“Where’s Shane?” Pepper called after her.

“Still in the bathroom,” Jas told her, digging into her pile of shoes by the door. “Maybe the pink ones…”

Pepper knocked softly on the bathroom door before shouldering it open. Shane was leaning over the sink, peering intently into the foggy mirror, shaving his face with the caution of a man trying to defuse a bomb.

“What’d you do with my future husband, strange clean-shaven man?” Pepper giggled, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his middle. He shook with a pent-up laugh, trying to stay focused on his arduous task.

“Thought I’d at least try to look nice,” he muttered.

“I’m not even slightly ready,” she said, burrowing her face into his still-wet hair.

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to try that hard,” Shane told her, smirking. When she stared at him in the mirror, he clarified: “You _always_ look nice.”

“Hm,” she laughed. “Is that a challenge?”

He shrugged her off, half of his face taken up with a smile, and the other half still foamy with shaving cream. “Let me do this, okay? I don’t want to be late for my own wedding.”

She stripped down and stepped into the shower. And like he was drawn by sirens, he followed not too long after her. He helped her wash, and then he helped her with several other things. They weren’t late to their own wedding, but they cut it pretty close.

Pepper took Jas into town with her while Shane finished up his ensemble, and the little girl could barely stand still. They matched in pale pink dresses, the same color as the flowering cherry trees—though Jas’s was decidedly frillier than Pepper’s.

Pelican Town was already bustling when they arrived: Gus had laid them out a modest little spread, and Robin was putting the finishing touches on the arbor that stood in the middle of the town square. Pepper stared at it in amazement, face already glowing.

“This is too much,” she said, sweeping the carpenter up into her arms.

“Well,” Robin laughed, prying herself free, “we don’t get a lot of weddings in the valley. It gives me an excuse to work on new projects, and _everyone_ loves a reason to celebrate.” Her eyes softened, and she squeezed Pepper’s shoulder. “You’ve got a lot of friends here, Pepper. You’ve done so much for us, and for the town. We’re all so happy for you. Let us help you, for once.”

At least Pepper was getting her crying out of the way early.

Emily pressed an enormous bouquet of flowers into Pepper’s hands, and gifted a smaller version to Jas (who hid behind Pepper’s legs). 

“I’m very happy for you, Pepper,” Emily said softly, cupping Pepper’s face gently. “This feels so right. The path might have wandered a little bit, but it’s brought you to this perfect day.” She sighed happily, dropping her hands away and just smiling up at her. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Pepper croaked, wiping at one of her eyes and laughing piteously. “Thank you, so much. For everything.”

Abigail and Sebastian stood together, and the former launched herself at Pepper when she saw she was free. She tried for a brief moment to lift Pepper off her feet like Sam did, but gave up almost instantly, face red. Words of congratulations spilled out of Abigail’s mouth, and she cut herself off after an embarrassed moment.

“Where’s Sam?” Pepper asked once she’d pried herself loose.

“Late,” Sebastian laughed. And now that Pepper was free, he stepped up to her and took her into a long, firm hug. “You look really happy,” he said quietly, still in her space and smirking at her.

“I really am,” she told him, eyes shining.

“Then _I’m_ happy.” He clapped her on the shoulder, and the moment was over (before anyone could accuse Sebastian of being sentimental).

“There’s my girl!” Sam shouted, almost right behind them; Pepper whipped around, shocked, and was swept up in the tightest hug of her life. “Heck of a day for a wedding, Peps!” 

He made a move to ruffle her hair, to which Abigail hissed and Sebastian swatted his hands away. Sam, laughing hard enough to fold almost in half, settled for a warm kiss on Pepper’s brow.

“Hey,” he said, squeezing her in another embrace and just keeping her there. “I know I’m kind of a pain sometimes, and I’m not really serious, like, _ever_. But…” He shot a look at Sebastian and Abigail, then ducked in closer to Pepper’s ear to say: “You’re my best friend, too.”

“Pssh,” Pepper laughed, tears in her eyes. “I knew that.”

She’d never seen Sam cry, and she still wasn’t quite sure that he did, but there was an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes when he pulled away.

Shane finally appeared in town, but not from the direction of the farm. He came from the ranch, with Marnie on his arm. She held onto him like she’d fall if he let go of her, and judging by the expression on her face, that may just have been the case. 

Jas ran up to Marnie and into her arms, and the woman gladly took the little girl’s embrace.

“It’s so good to see you,” Marnie said, voice already tear-stained. She laughed when Pepper came up to join them, smiling in a way that looked almost painfully happy. “Oh, Miss Pepper… I’m such a mess, I’m already crying.”

Pepper crushed Marnie into a hug (it was a hugging kind of day, Pepper decided; everyone was getting a hug).

“It’s not a big deal,” Shane tried to say, scooping Jas up from the ground and hugging her to his hip. “I mean, we’re already living in the same house, and…”

He and Pepper both saw the way Marnie was looking at them. Hearts were practically shooting out of her eyes at the three of them, at the unmistakable curve of Pepper’s stomach under her dress, clasping her hands together.

“I’m so happy you came to the valley, Pepper,” Marnie said around the emotion clogging her throat. And she excused herself to help the others with last minute preparations. 

Shane didn’t look like he was about to burst into tears, but somewhere close. He gulped it back down and looked instead at Pepper—who wasn’t much of a relief. She smiled through it.

“You clean up pretty good,” she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Pep,” he breathed, staying close (Jas looking between the two of them). “Tell me I’m not gonna mess this up.”

“You’re not going to mess up,” Jas said, squeezing her godfather’s face between her hands. Pepper laughed brightly, and Shane kissed the top of the little girl’s head before setting her down (she dashed off to find Vincent and Penny, who had already found chairs in the town square).

“Even if you did,” Pepper assured him, gently taking both of his shoulders in her hand and bringing them square, “it doesn’t make a difference. You know I love you.”

“Well, you’re gonna be stuck with me, now,” he murmured, eyes flicking up at her before ducking back down again.

“Good,” she said quietly, and she kissed him.

+++

Right up until the ceremony began, Pepper was terrified that her mother would somehow appear—that she’d picked up subtle vibrations in the ether, or something, and would appear in a puff of green smoke. Because she still hadn’t apologized for her behavior, and Pepper was convinced that she never would. She was content in waiting for that eventuality.

Her mother wasn’t there, but everyone in Stardew Valley had made an appearance.

Even the newest face in their midst was there—Jodi’s husband Kent, Sam and Vincent’s father. He’d knocked on her door at sunrise three days ago, a big man that took up all of her door frame, but with a sad and almost lonesome face. He’d come with every intention of introducing himself to the new farmer (“Sam’s already told me so much about you,” he said to her), but was apparently surprised to find another new face standing behind her in a bathrobe.

Pepper had invited him in for breakfast. She, Shane, Jas and Kent gathered around Pepper’s small table and ate fresh eggs together, getting to know each other. Kent was very pleased to discover that Marnie had family, though he did appear a bit sad that he’d missed so much in the past years. Shaking both of their hands, he told them he’d be sure to make an appearance at the wedding.

Shane and Pepper stood under the arbor, which Evelyn and Alex had decorated with an assortment of flowers, clutching their hands and looking out at the sea of people that had come to watch them get married. Jas waved from the crowd, and Shane gave a shy little wave back.

“Well,” Mayor Lewis chuckled, finally coming up between them, a hand on a shoulder for each of them, “aren’t you two popular?”

There was a smattering of laughter from the crowd, and Shane flushed. Pepper squeezed his hand, and he nodded, letting out a whoosh of breath.

“Well, let’s get right to it!” the mayor said. He stepped around them until he faced the crowd, and pulled a small booklet from his pocket. “You know, I remember the first day that both of you came to the valley. I remember everyone’s first day here—I’ve seen so many people come and go. And I always wonder if they’ll become a part of our little community.” He chuckled, waving a hand at everyone that had gathered around them. “I can see I never should have worried about the two of you.”

Shane’s eyes narrowed just momentarily, as if to imply ‘what do you mean by that, old man?’ but he shook it away.

“But, instead of listening to an old timer ramble on,” Lewis continued, “these two have something to say for themselves.” He nodded to Shane.

For a moment, he just went pale, and silence followed. But it was only for that moment, and then Shane plucked himself up with a straightening of his back and his shoulders. His bolstering sigh brought a little titter of laughter from the crowd, but he didn’t seem to notice at all. The sunshine dimmed as clouds rolled slowly in, grey and heavy, but no one paid them any mind.

“Hey, Pepper,” he breathed, and then he smiled (he’d heard the laughter this time, but it was Pepper’s that mattered the most). “You know I don’t really like talking about… anything, especially myself. And you probably know everything I’m gonna say, just like everyone else knows it. How nice you are, how you never ask for anything from anyone, how lucky I am.” He laughed at himself, and scrubbed a hand at his eye. “How I met you at a really bad time in my life, and I can’t believe you still wanted to be a part of all…” He gestured vaguely at himself. “… this.”

When he smiled, it was through the tears he was definitely trying to hide. “You pretty much saved my life, Pepper. And I’m pretty sure I’m gonna spend the rest of it trying to make it up to you. But I guess we’ve got the rest of our lives to figure all this out.”

How the _heck_ was she supposed to follow that? 

She wanted to scoop him up and just kiss all those stubborn tears away, but then again, that was a bit of a breach in protocol, wasn’t it? Shane raised his eyebrows, nodding just slightly at her, and she went bright pink—she was supposed to say something, too.

“I…” She blanked. Looking at that face, every thought melted out of her head. Pepper laughed pitifully, and felt two lines of tears track down her face. “I literally wrote down and practiced everything I was going to say to you. I was memorizing it in the shower, when you fell asleep reading to Jas. But now all I’ve got is how much I love you. I wish I could remember, but that’s all that’s going through my head right now.” She laughed again, wiping at her eyes with the hand that wasn’t held in Shane’s vicelike grip. “Because I do, I love you _so_ much. And you _never_ have to make anything up to me. This is enough. You’re enough.”

Shane’s mouth moved, very clearly spelling out ‘holy shit’, and he stubbornly refused to let the entire town see him cry (but they did see him hold his face in his hand for a long time, clearly rubbing at his eyes).

“Well,” Mayor Lewis breathed, a hand on a Shane’s shoulder and the other on Pepper’s. The tension and emotion came out of them, out of everyone, in a loud release of laughter—Pepper and Shane both lost themselves in it, wrapping arms around each other. 

“Without any more ado,” the mayor continued (his own eyes soft and shining). “As mayor of Pelican Town, and regional bearer of the matrimonial seal, I now pronounce you husband and wife!”

“Kiss him!” Sam shouted from the crowd, and there was a burst of cheers and laughter—followed by a loud grumble of thunder overhead.

And she did kiss him, long and sweet.

That’s when the sky opened up. Shouts and hoots from the crowd erupted like birdsong, and there was a quick scattering to the tents Gus had erected over the tables of food. Alex rolled his grandfather over quickly, and Marnie scooped Jas up to huddle together under the awnings. 

But not the newlyweds. They stayed there, under the arbor in the rain, which turned the stones dark all around them—holding each other, Pepper’s face grinning and bared up to the gray sky. She ducked down again and kissed him, and he held onto her almost desperately.

Sam whistled, Robin cheered, but Pepper and Shane didn’t hear any of it. All they heard was the rain and the soft, quiet laughter they shared together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i'm a sucker for rainy weddings.
> 
> so! in case y'all missed it, the new fic is already up! it's called Stardew Chronicles, and it's a Solarion Chronicles AU using the characters and events from this one. i'm gonna have an epilogue to this one, and then it's all over. i hope you folks have enjoyed Pepper's story as much as i've had writing it.


	27. epilogue

The snow began early, and didn’t let up even when the sun rose. Pepper only woke when she heard Jas come into the room and shake Shane awake quietly.

“Shane,” the little girl whispered. “Shane, Adam’s awake.”

He grunted at her before levering himself slowly (quietly) up. “Okay, okay, squirt,” he sighed. “I gotta get dressed, go on.”

Jas scampered out of the room, and Shane sat on the edge of the bed for a long time before standing. 

“Hey,” Pepper murmured, turning over to catch him in his underwear, grinning up at him. 

“Morning,” he grumbled, leaning back down to kiss her forehead. “Papa Shane’s on duty, go back to bed.”

“I love it when you’re corny,” she giggled, curling back up into the comforter.

“Yeah, well, that’s old age for you,” he said, brushing her hair back from her face and just looking at her. “Sleep,” he said again, and this time it was a command.

Pepper woke again almost an hour later, rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains and splaying across her face. She finally pulled herself out from under the blankets and got around to dressing herself for a quiet day in.

She found Shane pacing around the kitchen with the baby, murmuring a play-by-play of the last Tunnellers game in a voice that made Adam giggle. Jas perched in the chair by the window, staring out at the snow.

“It’s going to start melting soon, isn’t it?” she asked with an exaggerated sigh. “I wish it was spring.”

“Me too,” Shane said, ruffling her hair as he passed by her, bouncing Adam on his opposite hip. He caught his wife’s movement out of the corner of his eyes and looked up, beaming. “Hey, Pepperoni.”

“Hi,” she said, scooping Adam out of his arms and spinning (much to the little boy’s amusement). He had Shane’s dark hair, but Pepper’s bright, expressive eyes; he planted a small hand in the middle of his mother’s face. “Hey, kiddo! Busy morning,” she cooed.

“I’ll go feed the hens—” Shane began, but Pepper stopped him.

“You entertain the kids,” she said, spinning with Adam again before handing him back. “You’re doing a great job.” 

Sometimes, Shane still blushed when she kissed him.

There were three full coops on the farm, now. They turned a pretty profit, but she’d love the hens even if they only allowed her to barely scrape by. She scratched the top of Charlie’s head as she passed, passing on Shane’s adulations to his favorite chicken (he didn’t even try to hide it, the fiend). Charlie clucked knowingly, and continued pecking at breakfast.

Almost a year, she thought, plucking another egg from another roost. She’d been married almost a whole year. And working on the farm for nearly two. On one hand, it felt like a blur—moments slid effortlessly together into a long tapestry flowing behind her. But on the other, it felt as if she’d been here forever. That this farm wasn’t Grandpa’s anymore, but hers. Pepper’s Farm. Pepper and Shane (and Jas and Adam). And it was going to be theirs for a long time.

“Jas!” Shane cried, bolting out the door after the giggling blur of his goddaughter, Adam clutched in one arm, waving a coat wildly in front of him with the other. “Put on your coat! Come on, it’s _winter_!”

Pepper watched, laughing quietly, and eventually helped wrangle the little girl and stuff her into her fluffy purple coat.

+++

“I had the weirdest dream last night,” Pepper said, running her fingers through Jas’s hair, turning it into a long braid.

“Oh yeah?” Shane asked. “Mine was about a chili dog. I think it wanted to sell me a house.”

Jas giggled brightly.

“Mine was about Grandpa,” Pepper said. Her voice had dropped low, and she shook her head to start again. Shane had turned fully to look at her. “I guess it wasn’t really weird, but it was… very _real_.”

“So was the chili dog,” Shane laughed, but he stopped abruptly and cleared his throat at the look Pepper shot him. “Sorry. Tell me about it.”

Pepper patted the top of Jas’s head to let her know that she was finished, and the girl hopped to her feet and twirled to show it off.

“He talked to me. About the farm.”

They both paused and listened when they heard Adam make a small noise in his sleep, and once there was a safe enough silence, she went on.

“He came and sat on the edge of the bed. You were sleeping. He sat right next to me and held my hand.” Pepper stared at the back of her hand, and Jas curled up in her lap, fitting her own small hand on top of hers. “He said he was proud of me. How the farm turned out. But mostly how _I_ turned out.”

Shane scooted closer, tugging her close with an arm around her shoulder. “I think you’ve always been pretty great.”

She shook her head. “Before I came here, I was afraid to do anything new. I was stuck on a path I didn’t want to be on. When Dad died, I lost any ambition.”

He laughed, squeezing her. “Seriously? _My_ Pepper?”

“Seriously,” she told him. “It just meant so much to hear it from him, that he was happy with me. I know it was just a dream,” she went on, wiping at an errant tear. “But I was so happy when I woke up. Like it was real, like somehow he…” She shook her head, and managed a smile. “He liked you.”

Shane stared. “Well, that’s got to be a dream, then.”

She thumped a fist into his shoulder, and before he could say anything else, she pulled Jas in and the three of them fit together. Snug and warm on the sofa—in the house—on the farm—in the snow—in Stardew Valley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a short, sweet ending to a long, long fic. I could have gone on and on about Pepper and her little family, but i just wanted a small little bookend to wrap up her story. I hope that anyone had fun spending time with Pep and her life in the valley, I know I had a blast. NaNoWriMo finished, fic finished. have a happy life, Pepper.
> 
> until I throw you into a new fic, which is already going on, because I am not finished with you yet. See you guys in Stardew Chronicles.


End file.
